


Meanwhile

by stormpix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Friendship, Gen, Minor Original Character(s), Students, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Thestrals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 42,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25287268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormpix/pseuds/stormpix
Summary: While Harry, Ron, and Hermione are often caught up in the latest adventure/fiasco at Hogwarts, they're not the only ones engaged in investigative shenanigans.Enter an unlikely inter-House group of friends, who, in another life, just might have been investigators themselves.(Hogwarts AU, no slash, tags updated with the story.)
Relationships: Anthony DiNozzo & Jethro Gibbs
Comments: 66
Kudos: 49





	1. Climbing the Tower

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! stormpix here. I was a fanfiction writer over on FF.net years ago, but gave up posting when I wasn't satisfied with my writing. Over quarantine, I've been low-key binging NCIS and totally fell in love with the show, and when this plot bunny grabbed hold and wouldn't let go, I thought, "I'll just write it and no one will ever see!" Recently, though, I was reminded of the importance of getting feedback on your work -- the more feedback you get and the sooner you get it, the better! 
> 
> So, here are the first three chapters, which begin pre-series. Not sure about update schedule, since I've tried a schedule in the past, and it didn't turn out well... so I'll just go with my gut. Reviews are greatly appreciated. Thanks for giving this a shot!

_October 1990. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Donald Mallard paused on his way back to Ravenclaw Tower, glimpsing a flash of movement up the staircase to the Divination Tower. Curious. No one went to the Divination Tower unless they had class — and even then, they still might not. He hesitated, then followed, hearing only the occasional scuff of footsteps on stone ahead.

Emerging into the room with the Divination trapdoor, Donald looked around. Dead end, so where did the movement go? Chiding himself for imagining things, he had just turned to go when he noticed one section of wall looking strangely uneven. Almost like a door.

The spiral stairs were cramped, with a thin layer of dust disturbed only by a single set of footprints. Donald crept upward warily, and on the tiny landing at the top of the turret he blinked at the dark-haired boy in a defensive stance, fists up and ice-blue eyes glaring. A memory stirred in Donald’s mind of Leroy Jethro Gibbs’ Sorting into Hufflepuff. Poor boy — when Professor Flitwick had called his name, snickers had rippled through the Great Hall, and Gibbs’ answering glare had been so frosty that Donald remembered his slight surprise at the placement into the reputedly kind and gentle Hufflepuff House. Now, he raised his palms. “Easy!”

Gibbs didn’t relax. “Why’d you follow me?”

“I didn’t.” Gibbs’ eyebrow twitched, and Donald amended, “Well, I may have been following, but I didn’t know it was _you_. I was simply curious.”

“Bout what?”

Donald offered a smile. “About who would voluntarily go up the Divination Tower when Professor Trelawney _isn’t_ teaching a class.”

Gibbs’ eyes raked over Donald’s expression, then he nodded, ever so slightly, and lowered his hands. He sat down on a stone bench that circled the landing, and turned his head to look out the single window.

Donald approached cautiously, the way he approached one of his mother’s corgis when they were upset. “That’s an excellent view,” he commented casually. And it was — from this hidden turret, you could see across the grounds to the Quidditch pitch, Hagrid’s hut, the castle courtyard, and even catch a glimpse of the Whomping Willow if you craned your neck a little. “I had no idea this landing existed.”

“Found it last week.” Gibbs glanced sideways at Donald. “Thought Ravenclaws were supposed to know everything.”

“We _try_ , lad, but that doesn’t mean we do,” Donald replied, smiling. “Being up here reminds me of Parth Madden, who was ranting about Divination in the common room just yesterday. You see, he and Sandra Fawcett _thought_ Divination would be interesting and useful, but beyond the fact that Divination is extremely niche and difficult — or, some might call it baseless — but the professor’s a fraud, and that’s why no one comes up here unless they must. I, for one, far prefer Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes —” Noticing Gibbs’ bemused look, he stopped himself. “But where are my manners? Donald Mallard, third year.” Donald held out a hand.

“Jethro Gibbs, first year,” Gibbs replied, after a few awkward beats. He shook Donald’s hand briefly, then tilted his head. “Donald Mallard? Parents liked ducks?”

Donald winced. “Unfortunately.”

Gibbs’ mouth twitched into a small grin, and stayed. “People call you Duck?”

“Ducky, once,” Donald admitted. “But that was before Hogwarts. Not many people here know who ‘Donald Duck’ is.”

“Not many people here know what a television is,” Gibbs quipped back, and the two shared a smile.

“And on your end?” Donald asked lightly. “I seem to recall ‘Leroy’ as your first name at the Sorting.”

Gibbs scowled. “Named after my father’s friend.” 

Donald didn’t miss the slight hiss of anger on “father.”

“Well, I’ve got to go to the library for a study group. It was nice to meet you, Gibbs,” Donald said, adjusting the strap of his schoolbag in preparation to leave.

Gibbs gave a short, sharp nod, then just as Donald turned— “Jethro.”

Donald stopped. “Pardon?”

“Jethro.”

Ah. “Certainly, Jethro. It was a pleasure.” Never let it be said Victoria Mallard didn’t teach her son manners.

A pause. “Same. See ya, Ducky.” 

Donald “Ducky” Mallard smiled, then descended the stairs.


	2. Meeting the Transfer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second-year Hufflepuff Jethro Gibbs is a loner, until he isn't.

_September 1991. Hogwarts Express._

Someone knocked on the compartment door. Jethro stood up and slid it open to reveal a boy about his age, with brown hair, green-hazel eyes, and a cheeky grin.

“Hi,” he said, and Jethro resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow at the American accent. “Mind if I sit here?”

Jethro shrugged, and the boy beamed and dragged his trunk into the otherwise empty compartment. He drew his wand, flicked it, and uttered, “ _Wingardium Leviosa_ ,” guiding the case up to the luggage rack with practiced ease. Jethro did raise his eyebrow at that — no first year could have done the levitation charm so easily, but he’d never seen this guy before. The boy noticed Jethro’s questioning look and ducked his head sheepishly. “I’m a transfer student. Tony DiNozzo.”

Jethro nodded. “Jethro Gibbs.”

“Nice to meetcha, Jethro. Can I call you Jethro? I figure it’s a British thing for everyone to call each other by their last names, cuz that’s what Uncle Clive and cousin Crispian always do, but I think it’s weird, no one does that in America, or at least in American schools,” DiNozzo babbled cheerfully. 

Jethro just stared at him. _Ducky would probably like him. Fellow ramblers._

DiNozzo caught his eye and added hastily, “But I get it if you just want me to call you Gibbs, since we’re in Britain. When in Rome, do like the Romans and all that, right?”

Jethro hmm-ed neutrally as the train whistle blew. The seats rumbled as the Hogwarts Express began pulling out of the station. It was a while before either of them spoke again. Jethro could feel DiNozzo sizing him up, his calculating gaze at odds with his jovial expression.

“Where are you from?” Jethro asked.

DiNozzo grinned at the implicit concession to holding a conversation. “New York City, the Big Apple! I was at MIM last year — Manhattan Institute of Magic,” he clarified, seeing Jethro’s eyebrow twitch. He tilted his head, scrutinizing Jethro. “You’re No-Maj-born, aren’t you?”

Jethro had never heard the term _No-Maj_ , but it was easy enough to guess the meaning — _No-Magic_. “Yeah. You?”

DiNozzo sobered. “My mother was a witch.” His tone held a wistful note that resonated with Jethro’s own pang of loss. Right then he knew that Tony, too, had lost his mother, and he felt a strange kinship with the American.

“Dad’s a No-Maj. He didn’t know,” Tony continued, and now his tone had hardened ever so slightly. “Not ‘til I started school. So I’m half ‘n half. Ha! Like coffee creamer, huh?” Despite the grin and the joke, Jethro sensed there was more to the story that would explain why Tony was now attending Hogwarts instead, but he didn’t push. He could hear the same undercurrent of bitterness in Tony’s voice as in his own, whenever he thought about his own father. There were grievances buried behind that cheerful facade.

Suddenly DiNozzo lit up. “If you’re No-Maj-born, you know what a TV is! You like watching TV, Jeth— I mean, Gibbs? Or movies?”

“Sometimes,” Jethro admitted.

“Awesome! You know, I was so freaked out when I got here and found out that basically none of the wizards my age I met had ever watched a movie. Wizarding Britain’s so much more insulated than Wizarding America. I mean, I think Uncle Clive’s TV set is from the 1950s, or something, but hey, at least it works. You have any favorites?”

Jethro shrugged. “My dad watches a lot of old westerns.”

“Black and white?” At Jethro’s nod, Tony groaned dramatically. “I hope that’s not all you watch, Gibbs. Old flicks are good, sure, but modern cinema’s a whole new level these days. _Magnum P.I._ ’s my show right now. You ever seen it? _No!?_ Gibbs, you gotta get out more…”

~.~+~.~

Jethro stared at the skeletal black zombie-horse-thing pulling the carriage. The zombie-horse stared back with one milky white eye. 

“Jethro?” Ducky appeared at his shoulder, peering into the carriage. “Ah, good, this one’s empty. Care to join me?”

“Honestly, no,” Jethro said tightly, still staring at the zombie-horse. 

Ducky followed his gaze and frowned. “What’s wrong? There’s nothing there.”

“There’s a black zombie horse with wings, Duck!” Jethro said, gesturing emphatically.

“The school carriages are horseless, Jethro.”

The zombie-horse snorted, and Jethro stepped back. “Obviously not!”

Ducky frowned, thinking, then uttered a soft _ah!_ Jethro gave him an impatient look, and Ducky smiled in that way that meant he’d just realized something new — an expression Jethro had gotten used to seeing whenever they studied together companionably in the library or the Divination turret.

“Describe exactly what you see, Jethro.”

“I already told you. A black zombie horse with wings.” The zombie-horse whinnied, baring its fangs, and Jethro resisted a flinch. “And sharp teeth.”

“Zombie, like a decomposing corpse? Or zombie, more like a skeleton?”

Good ol’ Ducky and his Ravenclaw mind. Only he’d be able to say _decomposing corpse_ in the same way someone else might say _German Shepherd_. “A skeleton, I guess.”

“Bat-like wings?”

Jethro nodded. Ducky smiled again, and climbed into the carriage. Hesitantly, Jethro followed, and once they both sat down the zombie-horse shook itself and started trotting.

“You’re very unconcerned about this, Ducky.”

“I’d heard rumors that Hogwarts had trained a herd of thestrals,” Ducky replied. “It seems those rumors are true.”

“Thestrals?”

Ducky sobered. “They can only be seen by someone who has seen death. I’m sorry, Jethro.”

Unbidden, the memory of his mother in the hospital bed and the unbroken _beeeeeeep_ of the heart monitor rose up in his mind. Jethro swallowed, looked down at his hands, and tried not to cry. 

~.~+~.~

Ducky was a sympathetic presence by his side as they exited the carriage, made their way up the steps among the throng of black-robed students, and into the Great Hall, where Ducky left for the Ravenclaw table after giving Jethro a supportive shoulder squeeze. Jethro brooded at the Hufflepuff table, his icy glare discouraging his Housemates from getting too close, and the fresh swell of grief distracting him from the Sorting Hat’s song. 

Professor Flitwick was partway through the Sorting when Jethro remembered DiNozzo with a start. He focused on the next name and slumped at hearing “Palmer, James,” clapping half-heartedly as the lanky boy joined his table. He wondered where DiNozzo had gone. Not Hufflepuff, because if DiNozzo was a Hufflepuff Jethro fully expected (hoped) that DiNozzo would come to sit with him. Jethro started scanning the other tables, but stopped when “Potter, Harry!” sent a wave of murmurs through the Great Hall. Even Jethro, a Muggleborn student, knew who Harry Potter was. The Hall waited with bated breath until the Sorting Hat declared, “GRYFFINDOR!” and Jethro winced at the explosive cheers from the lions’ table. As the commotion died down, he suddenly spotted a familiar face in the line of remaining first-years. Their gazes met, and DiNozzo grinned. _I’m special_ , he mouthed, and Jethro rolled his eyes.

After “Zabini, Blaise” (“SLYTHERIN!”) sat down, Professor Flitwick paused, and Professor McGonagall interjected, “This year, we also welcome a second-year transfer student.” She nodded at Flitwick, who called, “Paddington, Anthony!”

_Paddington?_

Tony sauntered forward, flashing a megawatt smile. The Hat slipped over his head, where it remained silent long enough for people to start whispering. Jethro heard the word “Hatstall” several times, and held his breath. Finally, the Hat straightened. “GRYFFINDOR!”

~.~+~.~

Tony mostly let the other Gryffindors lead him around the school. He smiled, he joked, he boasted as expected of him, but when he followed Cormac McLaggen into Charms and realized they were with the Hufflepuffs, his smile froze under an unexpected swell of shame and fear. He stopped at the threshold of the classroom, hoping the dark-haired, ice-eyed boy by the far window hadn’t spotted him, and waited until the last second to enter, thanking his lucky stars that Flitwick was lecturing for the entire period.

“Don’t suppose you could tell me where I should go for Flying, could you?” he whispered to Katie Bell toward the end of the period.

She gave him a strange look. “We have Herbology next.”

“I’ve gotta fly with first-years.” 

Katie looked sympathetic and gave him the directions.

“Mr. Paddington, Miss Bell, if you would focus on the board!” Professor Flitwick squeaked, and they both sat to attention. Tony was out the door as soon as the bell rang. 

He didn’t know how Jethro would react to Tony concealing his name, and he was scared to find out.

He arrived at the Quidditch pitch with time to spare, where Madam Hooch was laying out broomsticks that had seen better days. He dutifully lent her a hand as first-year Gryffindors and Slytherins trickled out onto the field and lined up. At the initial broom-summoning, his broom leapt into his hand immediately, to his surprise. 

Tony observed the first-years quizzically, since they had divided themselves clearly by House. The famous Harry Potter was easy to pick out, snickering with a redhead as Madam Hooch corrected the grip of a blond boy with a sharp nose — Draco Malfoy, Tony recalled, from a summer gala he’d attended with Clive and Crispian not long after DiNozzo Sr. had signed custody of his son over to his brother-in-law and packed him off to England. Feeling a pang of anger, Tony turned his gaze casually away when Malfoy looked in his direction, but then a panicked yell set him on high alert. The round-faced boy to his left rose slowly into the air, face white with terror, unable to control his broom.

Tony saw him start to fall and moved without thinking, dropping his broom and throwing himself forward. The boy landed on him and both of them crashed to the thankfully soft ground. Madam Hooch rushed over, clucking over the boy — Longbottom — and his sprained ankle, and after confirming that Tony himself wasn’t hurt beyond a few new bruises, led Longbottom toward the castle. Then everything started going downhill: Malfoy taunted Potter into the air, Potter pulled off a spectacular dive, Madam Hooch yelled at them both, and Potter, too, was led into the castle. 

As the class, one by one, rose to a controlled hover in the air, Tony wondered whether all Flying lessons would be this eventful.

“Hey, Paddington!” Uh-oh. Tony turned to see Malfoy gliding by.

“Didn’t peg you for a lion,” Malfoy purred. 

“Totally pegged you for a snake,” Tony deadpanned, unimpressed.

Malfoy drifted closer. “Well, House affiliation should never be a barrier to friendship, should it?”

Tony gripped the shaft of his broom more tightly and gave a false smile. “Aw, thanks. What do friends do together, Draco? Go out for ice cream? Help each other on homework?” He smirked. “Try to steal each other’s family fortunes?”

Malfoy’s face darkened, but Madam Hooch called the class to order, and he backed off. Tony knew this wasn’t going to be the end of it. He sighed. The Paddington name was more trouble than it was worth.

After helping Madam Hooch put away the brooms, he headed for the Great Hall, only to realize that to reach the Gryffindor table, he’d need to pass Hufflepuff. Tony hesitated, then sneered inwardly at himself. He puffed out his chest a little, affected a swaggering air, and strode into the Hall with false bravado. 

Jethro Gibbs looked up as Tony passed the Hufflepuff table. They locked gazes. Deliberately, Tony looked away. He thought he felt something crack in his chest when Gibbs didn’t call out, didn’t stop him. 

_It’s for the better_ , he thought to himself, forcing the memory of his father out of his mind. _They can’t leave you if you leave them first._

~.~+~.~

Jethro was investigating.

Sort of. 

Alright, fine, he was making inquiries through Ducky’s connections to Gryffindor fourth-years. Not like he himself had many connections to utilize.

The Gryffindor fourth-years said that DiNozzo — Paddington — was friendly with everyone, a bit over-the-top or arrogant sometimes, but generally well-liked — a regular, happy-go-lucky kid, settling in well to a new school. The second-years seemed to get along well, but DiNozzo — Paddington — _Tony_ refused to meet his eyes during the classes they shared, and Jethro hadn’t missed how he sometimes would stare into the distance when he thought no one was looking. Jethro knew there was more to the other boy than the charm everyone else saw, and he was determined to find out what hid beneath the well-crafted mask.

Perched in the Divination turret, staring out the window, Jethro growled softly to himself. “Dammit, Tony. What is up with you?”

~.~+~.~

_Hallowe’en 1991. Hogwarts._

It had become a habit for Tony to slip into meals at the beginning or end of the dining periods, though Tony refused to vocalize the exact reason for this habit, even to himself. Today, though, it was proving to be a bit of a problem, as Tony pressed himself into an alcove with a suit of armor and tried not to panic at the _enormous freaking troll down the hall._

Tony took deep breaths, trying not to choke on the troll’s pungent odor. _Okay, don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry THINK._

He was on the first floor, at the landings for the staircases. The staircase that would take him up to the Great Hall wouldn’t arrive for another several minutes, though. The troll blocking the corridor’s other end hadn’t yet noticed him, too busy investigating the bathrooms down the hall. Tony stilled the trembling in his hands through force of will. Just wait it out. Just wait it out.

The staircase rumbled into place. Tony peeked out of the alcove. The troll seemed to be deliberating with itself, and mentally Tony begged it to move.

A hand touched his shoulder and Tony whipped around, barely stifling his yelp of surprise.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed at Gibbs, who had appeared out of nowhere like a _freakin’ ghost_ in the alcove.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Gibbs retorted. “Quirrell said the troll was in the dungeons, and the headmaster told us to go back to our common rooms.”

Tony gave him a pointed look, and Gibbs snorted. “Pot, kettle.” He hesitated. “Got worried about you. You weren’t at the feast.”

The troll gave a grunt from down the hall, and both boys tensed. With lumbering steps, the troll entered the girls’ bathroom. By unspoken agreement, Tony and Gibbs were about to make a dash for the staircase when they heard voices and running footsteps, and they hunkered down warily. Two figures ran by the alcove, heading for the bathroom.

Tony blinked incredulously. “Was that… Potter and Weasley?”

Gibbs looked just as stunned at the reckless action. “Running _toward_ a troll?”

They exchanged glances.

“I’ll find a professor,” Tony said, jumping up.

Gibbs nodded. Suddenly a scream rang through the hall. “Hurry!” Gibbs growled, and Tony took off.

~.~+~.~

Jethro ran down the now-empty corridor toward the girls’ bathroom, drawing his wand as he went. He could hear yelling, shrieks, crashes and thumps coming from inside, and he pushed open the door just enough to slip inside quietly and press himself against the stall closest to the door, peering around just enough to survey the situation. Wouldn’t do for the troll to notice another target joining the party just yet.

Probably for the better that he maintained the element of surprise. He spotted a curly-haired girl frozen in the corner, Weasley struggling to his feet by the wall and shaking his head to clear the pain, and Potter lying dazed in the wreckage of a stall with the troll advancing on the easy target.

Jethro didn’t hesitate. “ _Flipendo!_ ” The Knockback Jinx barely made the troll flinch, and Jethro grimaced. “ _Flipendo Duo!_ ”

The troll staggered a step, then swung its head around stupidly, trying to figure out where the spells were coming from. Its tiny brain focused on the girl in the corner, and it took a step forward.

“ _FLIPENDO DUO!”_ Jethro roared again, sending the jinx streaking toward the troll. At the same time, he heard Weasley yell, “ _WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!_ ” 

The troll staggered back just as Weasley released the Levitation Charm on the troll’s club, dropping it onto the creature’s head. The troll swayed then, as if in slow-motion, went down with a ground-shaking thud. The bathroom fell silent except for heavy breathing and the trickling of water from broken pipes.

~.~+~.~

Tony heard the crash and felt the impact through his feet, and his heart skipped a beat. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick lengthened their strides, and he trotted to keep up, reaching the girl’s bathroom and throwing open the door, which almost smacked into — “Gibbs! You’re okay!”

“Almost wasn’t, DiNozzo,” Gibbs replied with a pointed jerk of his chin at the door, but there was no heat in his glare. Tony resisted a flinch when Professor Flitwick glanced their way as Professor McGonagall furiously lectured her first-year lions.

“You helped, Mr. Gibbs?” Professor Flitwick asked quietly. Gibbs nodded, and Flitwick paused, listening to Potter and his friends. “An ‘unknown caster’ of several Knockback Duo Jinxes. Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger didn’t know you were here?” 

Gibbs shook his head. Tony noticed his shoulders curving inward a little and interjected, “Professor, may we go back to our common rooms?”

Flitwick looked between them both, and Tony could have sworn he saw a hint of a smile. “Very well then, Mr. Paddington. Ten points to Gryffindor, twenty to Hufflepuff.”

“Thanks, professor!” Tony chirped, giving a respectful nod and tugging Gibbs out the door. He thought he caught Potter watching them curiously, but dismissed it.

They walked in silence until Gibbs said quietly, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Tony returned with his trademark sunny grin, but now that his adrenaline was ebbing away he felt his apprehension return. It spiked when Gibbs asked hesitantly, “How’d you know?”

“Know what?” Tony feigned nonchalance. They were almost at the landing where they would part ways when Gibbs grabbed Tony’s shoulder and pulled them both to a stop.

“That I wanted to leave,” he said. 

Tony resisted the urge to squirm under the other’s boy’s scrutinizing gaze. “Lucky guess?”

Gibbs gave him a deadpan stare, and Tony looked down. Reluctantly, he admitted, “I’ve seen the same in the mirror.”

“Somehow I don’t think you’ve been avoiding me because you don’t want unwarranted recognition,” Gibbs said wryly. “So what’s going on?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” Tony deflected weakly. 

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. When Tony looked away, he barked, “DiNozzo!”

Tony flinched, but he felt a spark of hope. As a test, he retorted, “It’s Paddington.”

“So people say.” Gibbs crossed his arms. “You saying you lied?”

Tony controlled his flinch this time. “So what if I did?”

Ice-blue eyes narrowed. “If you did, I wouldn’t want to be friends.”

A wave of disappointment seized Tony’s heart, and he looked away, trying to tamp down his emotions. _I knew it_. 

“But—” Tony’s head came up when Gibbs stepped closer in challenge. “You didn’t, did you.”

They stared at each other. Tony pressed his lips together, trying to read Gibbs’ expression. Several beats passed, then Tony huffed an incredulous laugh, running his hand through his hair. “Nothing gets past you, huh, Gibbs?”

Gibbs gave a half-smile and waited for Tony to gather himself.

“My name _was_ Tony DiNozzo,” Tony explained. “Anthony DiNozzo Junior. But when my father — Anthony DiNozzo Senior — found out about magic, he wasn’t happy. After Mom—” His breath caught, but he took comfort in Gibbs’ steady, nonjudgmental gaze. “Well, he disowned me. Signed custody over to Mom’s family, the Paddingtons. ‘S why I’m here now.” He chuckled self-deprecatingly. “Not really used to thinking of myself as a Paddington, even if I _have_ learned to respond to the name. That’s why I introduced myself to you as DiNozzo on the train. It was an accident, but…”

“You liked it, and decided to roll with it,” Gibbs finished, and Tony nodded guiltily.

“Then at the Sorting, McGonagall drew attention to my name, and I realized I hadn’t told you, and I thought… well…” Tony tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. “Like you said, who’d want to be friends with a liar?” 

Gibbs tilted his head slightly, but said nothing. Tony wilted a little, but drew his mask tighter over himself. “Well, good talk, Gibbs! Now you know, and I get it if you want me to leave, so I’ll just be heading back to Gryffindor Tower…” He trailed off when Gibbs stepped closer again. “Gibbs—”

Gibbs cuffed him over the back of the head. “Did I say I wanted you to leave, DiNozzo?” he growled.

Tony gaped at him. “Did you just _head-slap_ me?!”

“For being an idiot, not a liar.” Gibbs looked vaguely satisfied, and elaborated at Tony’s befuddlement. “You said it yourself — it was an accident.”

“But I didn’t correct it,” Tony protested. 

Gibbs shook his head. “You never gave yourself the chance.” He gave Tony a steely glare, and Tony found himself marveling at how many “alpha wolf” vibes the other twelve-year-old was giving off. “Tony, I don’t care what you call yourself. I care that you were avoiding me because you had some idiot idea that I would abandon you over a _name_.” He huffed. “I know I’m not social. I don’t have many friends. But I don’t leave the ones I have behind. Got me?”

Tony, stunned, opened and closed his mouth a few times. What finally came out was, “Wow, Gibbs, really stretching yourself there. I think that’s more than you said for the entire train ride.”

Gibbs snorted. “Don’t push it, DiNozzo.” He eyed Tony. “Or is it Paddington?”

Tony blinked. “Ahm… I…” He ducked his head. “DiNozzo’s good. Just between us.”

Another half-smile. “We good then, DiNozzo?”

“I… yeah. We’re good, Gibbs.”

“Jethro.”

Tony blinked again. “Really?”

Jethro grinned. “Just between us.”


	3. Exploring the Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a certain first-year gets punched and our favorite pair meet a certain pair of pranksters.

_Early November, 1991. Quidditch Pitch. First match of the year — Gryffindor VS Slytherin._

Tony was surprised to learn that despite Jethro’s rather gruff exterior — as gruff as a twelve-year-old could be, anyway — they both shared a love of sports, even if Jethro had little intention of ever joining the school Quidditch teams.

“You’ve _never_ seen a Quidditch match?” he had asked incredulously.

“We don’t have Quidditch in the U.S., we have _Quodpot_ ,” Tony corrected. “Quodpot’s better, by the way.” (Jethro snorted at that.) “I’ve never seen a match in person, though, and I never played. MIM was too small and right in the middle of New York City — there was no way to play anything without No-Majs noticing.”

“Heard Potter’s the new Gryffindor Seeker,” Jethro commented, wrapping his scarf more snugly around his neck against the autumn chill.

Tony grinned. “You heard right. They were _terrible_ at keeping it a secret.”

“Quite unsurprising,” came a voice from behind them. Ducky descended the stairs to their bench and squeezed in next to Jethro, ignoring the curious looks from the surrounding Gryffindors. “They say that ‘three may keep a secret if two are dead,’ and there were far more than three people in the know.”

Jethro grunted in agreement. “Should be a rule for secret-keeping. Best way is to keep it to yourself. Second best is to tell one other person if ya have to. No third best.”

“Whoops, guess I’m screwed,” Tony joked. He and Ducky had gotten on like a house on fire when Jethro had introduced them in the Divination turret, and Tony had told Ducky his name not long after. There was something about the fourth-year that set people at ease, which made Ducky’s determination to become a Healer entirely fitting.

“Hey, Paddington!”

Oh, great, Tony thought. “Hey, Malfoy!” he snarked back, twisting around.

Draco Malfoy, flanked by his thugs Crabbe and Goyle, had an ingratiating smile on. “Good luck in the game. No hard feelings if Slytherin wins, right?”

“If there are hard feelings, it won’t be because of Quidditch,” Tony said with false pleasantry.

Ducky and Jethro had both turned around, and Tony saw Malfoy’s eyes narrow on Gibbs. “Associating with a Hufflepuff, Paddington?”

“And if I am?” Tony asked dangerously.

Malfoy sniffed. “I would think the Paddingtons have better taste than that.”

Tony bristled, but before he could do anything he felt Jethro stand up next to him. The Hufflepuff stepped up onto the bench with a perfectly neutral poker face and punched Malfoy in the jaw.

“Jethro!” Ducky yelped. Tony, stunned, watched Malfoy stumble back into Crabbe, swearing. Jethro calmly turned around and sat back down with a small, satisfied smirk. 

Malfoy wiped the spittle from his mouth. “You’ll pay for that, _Mudblood_ ,” he spat.

Tony was on his feet in an instant, wand out and aimed at Malfoy’s head. 

“You’ll have to go through me first, you purist _snake_ ,” he hissed.

Ducky spoke at his shoulder. His wand was also up, his tone deceptively mild. “And me. I would not recommend it, seeing as I have two more years’ worth of spellwork than you. And Tony? Don’t call him names.”

Tony jerked around in betrayal, but his retort died at the blazing fury in Ducky’s eyes. The Ravenclaw continued, mockingly polite, “There’s no use dignifying someone so disgraceful with further insult.”

Malfoy spluttered. “My father will hear about this!”

“Lay a hand on my friends, and so will my uncle,” Tony sneered. “Now scram.”

With one last glare, Malfoy stalked away, nose in the air. Tony waited for him to disappear into the crowd, then plopped back on the bench, still seething. Ducky laid a hand on his shoulder before he, too, retook his seat.

Tony could feel Jethro’s eyes on him, waiting, and he scowled. “Draco Malfoy, Slytherin first year. Uncle Clive took me and Crispian to a summer gala at Malfoy Manor not long after I moved here. Pretty sure Malfoy Senior’s had his eye on me, ‘cause the kid’s been trying to suck up to me even after I got Sorted into Gryffindor.”

“I doubt he will be after you anymore, Anthony,” Ducky remarked. “Or Jethro either, after that impressive blow.”

Jethro touched Tony’s arm. The Hufflepuff’s voice sounded unusually insecure. “Tony. ‘Mudblood’?”

Anger rose up in Tony’s chest. “It’s a slur for a No-Maj-born witch or wizard.”

“An outdated and entirely inappropriate term,” Ducky declared. “Don’t take it to heart, Jethro. The Malfoys are infamous for their blood purity ideals, but no one with any decency would agree with them.”

“Greedy, entitled bastards,” Tony added darkly. “They think they’re better than everyone because of their ‘pure blood.’ If it weren’t for the fact that Crispian and I are the heirs to the Paddington fortune, no way would Malfoy Junior want to associate with me, since I’m half-blood.”

Jethro nodded, but his face was closed off. Tony slung an arm around his shoulders.

“I meant what I said, Jeth,” he said seriously. “Anyone who thinks you’ll be a cheap shot ‘cuz of your heritage has to deal with me.”

“I as well,” Ducky said. “You’re our friend, Jethro, and we defend each other.”

“Though, let’s be honest,” Tony said more cheerfully, “with your talent for Duelling, you’d probably take ‘em out before Ducky and I could get our shots in. Oh, hey, look! The teams are coming out!”

~.~+~.~

_Mid-December 1991. The Divination turret._

One day Tony said suddenly, “Let’s explore the castle.”

Jethro raised his eyebrows.

“Because we’re out of space up here! What if Ducky brings a friend, then what’re we gonna do?”

Jethro snorted. Tony hummed thoughtfully. “You’re right, Ducky wouldn’t without telling us first. But it’s still a fair point, Jeth. This is barely a three-man room. We should find ourselves a larger hideout, just in case.”

Jethro rolled his eyes, and Tony adopted a wounded puppy look. “What’s wrong with calling it a hideout?”

“We’re not hiding, DiNozzo.”

Tony huffed. “Well, I still think we need a new place. It’s cold up here, no matter how nice the view is. Hey, speaking of cold, you got any Christmas plans?”

His gut twisting at the thought of spending Christmas with his father and, worse, his father’s _girlfriend_ , Jethro shook his head. “Staying here.”

Tony lit up. “Awesome! Now I have an excuse to stay!”

Jethro set down his quill, folded his hands, and waited. Tony obliged, but his excitement dimmed as he explained, “I thought I was gonna have to go back to Paddington House with Crispian. I’m pretty sure Uncle Clive would have dragged us around to holiday parties, which you can probably guess are really political parties, and I really wasn’t looking forward to it. Plus, being at Paddington House makes me think of… you know.”

Jethro hummed and picked up his quill again. Yeah, he knew. He and Tony had never explicitly discussed their mothers, but he knew.

The fact that Tony could also see the two thestrals that flew over the Forbidden Forest one day was a big hint.

“I’m going to write Uncle Clive right now,” Tony said, already scribbling on a notepad with a ballpoint pen. (Tony thought quills and parchment were stupid, and used pens and paper for anything that wasn’t being turned in for a grade. “We all use pens in America,” he’d complained to Jethro.) “You wanna come to the Owlery with me? Ooh, maybe we can find a secret hideout on the way!”

Jethro head-slapped him, but went anyway.

~.~+~.~

Exploring the hidden parts of Hogwarts soon became a regular occurrence. They found out they weren’t the only ones, either.

“Well, well, well, what have we here, Freddie?” 

“Dunno, Georgie, but it looks like a couple of second-years sneaking around. Naughty, naughty.”

Ironic, considering all four of them — the two identical redheads, Tony, and Jethro — were currently standing in the hidden passageway behind a tapestry.

“What’s this?” One of the twins leaned in. “A Gryffindor and a Hufflepuff?”

“Oh ho, did you corrupt the badger, little lion?”

“Nope, he corrupted me!” Tony replied cheerfully, and Jethro cuffed him over the head. “Okay, fine, it was my idea, but he went along with it.”

The twins grinned. 

“Methinks the badger is in charge here, George.”

“Seconded, dear brother of mine.” The other twin extended his hand. “George Weasley, and that’s my imaginary friend Fred.”

“Don’t believe him, he’s the imaginary one,” Fred laughed, shoving his twin. “Pleased to make the acquaintances of fellow explorers, Lord Badger and Cub.”

“Hey, why am I the Cub?” 

Jethro smirked. “Don’t worry, you’ll grow into your mane someday.” He nodded at the twins. “Jethro Gibbs, and the Cub’s Tony Paddington.”

“ _Giiiiiiibbs!_ ” Tony complained, but he bumped Jethro’s shoulder playfully.

“Where does this passage go?” Jethro asked the amused twins.

“As Lord Badger asks, so shall he receive,” Fred proclaimed dramatically. “Come hither, young ones!”

George smacked his brother. Jethro grinned at that and Tony winced sympathetically. “We were just heading down for a snack anyway,” George said in a more normal tone. “You’re welcome to tag along.”

Down several steep staircases and a twisting ramp, Fred pushed open a door. “Behold!”

“The Hogwarts kitchens!” Tony exclaimed. Wide-eyed, Jethro took in the bustling, cavernous room, filled with steam and delicious scents and populated by little elf-like creatures. As if reading his mind, Tony murmured in his ear, “House-elves. We’ve got a couple at Paddington House, too.”

“But for you, Lord Badger, this isn’t even the best part,” George said with a grin. Jethro and Tony followed him to a door set in the opposite wall, which turned out to be a painting that swung open on hinges. And on the other side — 

Jethro blinked at the barrels. “That’s the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room.” He and Tony exchanged looks. Tony looked like he was going to burst, his smile was so wide.

The tapestry they’d originally come from was just down the hall from the portrait of the Fat Lady, the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. The secret passageway cut the travel time between Gryffindor Tower and the Hufflepuff Basement by half, if not more.

“To get back into the kitchen, just tickle the pear,” Fred said, pointing at the painting of a bowl of fruit. 

“Handy for all your midnight snacks and secret meeting needs,” quipped George.

“This is AWESOME!” Tony cheered, bouncing on his toes. “This’ll make sneaking around after-hours so much easier—”

Jethro cut him off with a warning look, but the Weasley twins just grinned indulgently.

“Not to worry, we’ll keep your secret,” Fred said.

“Though we’d certainly appreciate a donation,” George added, and they both turned to Jethro, who raised an eyebrow.

“We humbly beg of Lord Badger to show us the way into the badgers’ den?” Fred asked hopefully.

Jethro just smiled enigmatically at them. The Hufflepuff prefects had impressed on him in his first year that the Hufflepuff common room proudly held the distinction of never being penetrated by other Houses — apparently a group of pranksters called the Marauders had managed to infiltrate the other three a few decades ago — and Jethro intended to uphold the tradition. He could hear Tony smothering a laugh.

At his silence, George shrugged. “Oh well. Worth a try.”

“Consider it our gift to the spirit of inter-House friendship.”

“Amen to that,” agreed Tony. 

Fred slapped him in the shoulder. “Good meeting you, Cub. See you around.”

“Fare thee well, Lord Badger.” George waved with a grin, and the twins disappeared back into the kitchens.

Tony and Jethro set off down the hall.

“Lord Badger?” Tony finally said.

Jethro shrugged and quirked a half-smile. Tony narrowed his eyes. “You like it, don’t you.”

“Wasn’t my idea,” Jethro replied innocently.

Tony cocked his head, pondering, then shrugged. “You’re the boss.”

They turned toward the library — Tony had to make up a Herbology test, and Jethro had promised to help him study.

“Would you tell _me_ how to get into the badgers’ den?”

“Maybe one day.” Jethro paused and smirked. “Cub.”

“ _Giiiiiiibbs!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that's the last of your freebies. Drop a review if you liked it, or even if you didn't like it! And again, updates are based on my gut, which could possibly be swayed an enthusiastic response, so do me a favor and let me know what you thought.


	4. Breaking the Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony discovers thestrals, Percy Weasley gets sniped by a certain Hufflepuff, and the aforementioned Hufflepuff aids and abets a pair of dragon-smuggling first-years... without realizing it.

_Late December, 1991. Hogwarts._

“Don’t do it, Tony.”

“Ah, loosen up, Gibbs! It’ll be fine! Ducky said they were trained.”

Jethro warily eyed the thestral, which eyed him back. He could have sworn it was the same one that had pulled his carriage at the start of term. “Define _trained_. Still has teeth.”

Tony ignored him, slowly approaching the horse-like creature with cautious steps, palms open. He crooned at the thestral, which switched its gaze to the Gryffindor. Jethro’s hand strayed to his wand holster and he tensed when Tony reached out his hand to place it lightly on the thestral’s flank. Tony grinned over his shoulder at Jethro and mouthed, _It’s not so bad!_ He began gently stroking the thestral, which gave a little shudder and — Jethro gaped at this — _arched its wings_ so Tony’s hand could move along the length of its body.

Typical. Even the death-horse liked DiNozzo. Jethro huffed with impressed incredulity, then scanned the crowd of students. “Tony!” he hissed, spotting the reason for their being at the carriage stop. “Ducky incoming, your five o’clock!”

Hastily, Tony gave the thestral a final pat and withdrew his hand just before Ducky appeared out of the departing students, dressed for travel. He was shuffling along with a cohort of other Ravenclaw fourth-years, but he brightened and broke away from his group to greet them. “Jethro! Tony! I do appreciate you coming to see me off. Both of you are staying?”

“Yeah, Duck,” Jethro confirmed as Tony glomped Ducky with a big hug. 

“Couldn’t miss our favorite Ravenclaw!” Tony added cheerfully, pulling back. He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Also, the Hogwarts thestrals are _so cool_.”

Ducky’s eyebrows rose, and he glanced at Jethro. “What did he do now?”

Jethro chuckled. “No harm, no foul, Ducky. Save the lecture, your friends are waiting.” He nodded at the Ravenclaws who were watching their interaction with bemusement.

“Right indeed, Jethro.” Ducky fixed Tony with a pointed glare. “Do me a favor and stay out of trouble, Anthony. I’ve only just started learning Healing spells.”

“I’ll do my best!” Tony chirped. He waved vigorously, Jethro more sedately, as Ducky climbed into the carriage and the thestral pulled away.

“You know,” Tony remarked as they headed for the castle, “Just for that, I think I’m gonna take Care of Magical Creatures next year. You gotta admit, what I did was pretty cool.”

“Tony, you could have lost your fingers.”

“But I didn’t!” Tony sang. Jethro glared at him pointedly, though a smile was tugging at his lips, and Tony amended, “I’ll be careful, boss. Promise.”

They paused in the corridor. Tony scratched his head. “So what do we do now?”

Jethro shrugged. “Whatever we want.” 

“What’d you do last year, then?”

Jethro hummed. “Read some books. Walked around the grounds.”

A smile spread across Tony’s face. “Think we can get away with _flying_ around the grounds?”

 _"No thestrals._ ”

“Not thestrals! We can use school brooms.” Tony rubbed his chin. “Closet might be locked, though.”

“Got it covered.” Jethro drew his wand and twirled it between his fingers.

Tony grinned mischievously. “Race you there, boss!”

~.~+~.~

_Christmas Day, 1991._

They had determined their new secret hideout — though, as Jethro pointed out, the location was neither secret nor a hideout, considering it was the landing of the clock tower that overlooked the courtyard. Still, it was private enough; it wasn’t on the route to any major classrooms or locations, so few people tended to ever go there.

Not today, though. Jethro raised his eyebrows at the red-headed twins hunched suspiciously by the banister. Tony bounced over without hesitation, his exuberance belying almost-silent footsteps. The American leaned forward and shouted, “BOO!”

The twins jumped. One yelped loudly when their heads collided.

“What was that for?” complained one twin.

The other — Jethro decided to designate him as Fred unless proven otherwise — rubbed his forehead, but brightened when he recognized Tony. “Hey, it’s the Cub! And our _esteemed_ Lord Badger,” he added with a wink.

“What’re you guys doing?” Tony asked as Jethro strode over. The twins grinned and parted to reveal a pile of faintly shimmering snowballs. A very _large_ pile. Jethro wondered how the twins managed to get that much snow indoors without it melting. George seemed to read his question, and explained, “We’re just waiting for the right target. Used a Freezing Charm to keep ‘em from melting.”

“Easy-peasy,” Fred added. “Look — _Glacius!”_ A snowball gained a blue sparkle.

Tony picked it up. His breath condensed from proximity to the charm. “Cool! Who’s the target?”

“Well, my young Cub, we have a few options.”

“We’ll let you know if we see one.”

Movement in the courtyard caught Jethro’s attention. “Someone’s coming.”

George hopped up and peered down. “Perfect! Ready the ammunition!”

Tony joined him at the edge. “Wait, isn’t that—”

“ _Harry Potter_?” Jethro finished, coming up alongside.

Fred waved airily. “We were thinking more of our dear little Ronnie beside him. Oh, George!” His eyes lit up. “Looky-loo! Prefect Percy’s joined the party!”

“Two birds with one stone — or snowball,” George said, rubbing his hands together. “Want to join the fun?”

Tony gave Jethro wide puppy-dog eyes. Jethro tilted his head. They stared at each other, then Jethro sighed, relenting, and a smile spread across his face. George looked impressed. “You two sure you’re not twins?”

“Do I sound British to you?” Tony retorted. He scooped up another snowball, and Jethro followed suit.

“If we get caught, I blame you,” Jethro said as they took aim.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Tony held up a finger. “You’re the boss. I’ll blame _you_.”

“You do that, I’ll tell Ducky.”

“If _you_ do that, he’ll kill us both before McGonagall can.”

“If you lads are done chatting,” Fred broke in. “Ready… Three… two… one… Fire!”

Tony whooped as four snowballs sailed down into the courtyard. One nailed Percy Weasley square in the back of the head. Another clipped Ron Weasley on the shoulder. Harry Potter ducked.

“Bulls-eye, boss!” Tony cheered, high-fiving Jethro before they went for more projectiles. Jethro shook his head, amused, and launched another snowball into the courtyard chaos.

~.~+~.~

_Down in the Courtyard._

As snowballs arced down, Harry went into a duck-and-cover position, but not before he got splatted on the side.

“Oops! Sorry ‘bout that, Harry!” came a familiar voice from above, and Harry glimpsed one of the Weasley twins grinning down at him. He wasn’t alone though… A dark-haired boy and a brunette appeared beside the twins, the first boy chucking another snowball right into Percy’s chest. The prefect spluttered and shook his fists, yelling. Harry frowned a little, thinking that the two kids looked a little familiar...

~.~+~.~  
  


_The Great Hall._

Eventually they all took pity on the targeted Weasleys — for a given definition of “took pity,” anyway. The fact that they ran out of snowballs and the smells wafting up from the Great Hall were probably larger factors.

Percy accosted Fred and George in the entrance hall, but Jethro and Tony made sure to hang back long enough that Percy wouldn’t notice them before beginning his tirade, then slipped past unnoticed.

The House tables in the Great Hall had been pushed aside, and instead there was one large table in the middle. Several professors were already seated, and a few students as well.

“Since there are so few of us, it seemed rather silly to sit all on our lonesomes!” Headmaster Dumbledore announced as the few remaining students trickled in. “Come, let’s enjoy our magnificent Christmas feast together, shall we?”

Tony and Jethro took a pair of empty seats, and to Jethro’s surprise Harry Potter slid in next to Tony. Potter gave Jethro a side-glance and a small smile. “Nice arm.”

Jethro hummed noncommittally and Tony snorted as a slightly-dripping Ron Weasley stomped in and plopped down next to Potter, grumbling. When he focused on Jethro and Tony, his eyes narrowed. “Hold on. Weren’t you two on the landing with Fred and George?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Jethro replied with a straight face. “Pass the potatoes?”

Tony dragged the platter over. “We’ve been out on the grounds,” he added innocently. Which was true. They had gone out on the grounds… before going to the clock tower.

Potter kept shooting them looks in between the three-course feast, dessert, and pulling wizard crackers. When Tony and Jethro got up to leave, intending to head for the Divination turret to play a round of cards — Tony had received a pack from a cracker — Jethro heard Potter get up as well, then some grumbling as Weasley followed his friend.

In the entrance hall, Jethro caught Tony’s eye. Tony gave a tiny nod, and together they spun around, making Potter and Weasley jerk to a stop.

“Okay, what’s up with you?” Tony asked, folding his arms. “If you have something to say, say it.” He paused. “Unless it’s about what happened just before the feast in the courtyard, in which case there’s nothing to say.”

Jethro resisted the urge to head-slap him.

“So it was you!” Weasley exclaimed.

“Again, we have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jethro drawled. “If that’s all…” He jerked his chin at Tony, and they turned to go.

“Wait, wait, that’s not — I just wanted to know,” Potter said hurriedly. Jethro half-turned, and Tony put his hands on his hips. Potter took a deep breath. “Were you there when the troll attacked on Halloween? At the girls’ bathroom?”

Jethro and Tony exchanged glances. Tony took a tiny step back, barely a shifting of weight. _Your call._

“... Tony got the professors,” Jethro finally said.

“So you cast the jinxes?” Weasley chipped in, eyes wide. Jethro regarded him, then Potter, with an impassive look, then dipped his head ever so slightly before turning and walking away, Tony falling into step by his right shoulder.

“Wait, what’s your name?” Potter called after them.

Jethro paused. “Gibbs.”

As they continued on, he heard Potter’s final “Thanks, Gibbs!”

“That was nice,” Tony commented once they were out of earshot. Jethro looked at him inquiringly. “You deserve a thanks, Jethro. You saved their lives.”

Jethro shrugged. “Anyone would have done the same.”

Tony chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re selling yourself short. Sometimes I think you’re in the wrong House.”

“And you?” Jethro replied cryptically with a raised eyebrow. Tony looked confused, and Jethro didn’t elaborate. Someday Tony, too, would realize how great and unusual his own gift of loyalty was.

~.~+~.~

_May 1992. Gryffindor Tower._

Jethro crept along the corridor on near-silent feet on the way back from the Divination Tower. He’d accidentally left his star charts there, and considering his Astronomy homework was due in a few hours, he’d decided to risk sneaking out in the window of time after curfew but before the Hufflepuff prefects would lead the first-years to class.

Not like he hadn’t snuck out after curfew before.

Some time later, he froze when he heard whispers, grunts, the scuff of shoes on stone, and oddly, the sound of fabric tearing from around a corner ahead. He waited with bated breath, but the corridor remained empty even as the sounds rounded the corner and moved away from him. Puzzled, he followed, listening carefully. There was definitely the _sound_ of someone there — at least two someones, struggling as if they were carrying a heavy object. One of the someones cursed, and, like a veil peeling back, a black robe revealed itself. A girl’s hushed voice said, “Oh — no — Harry, I tripped on the Cloak, I can’t reach it —”

“Let’s take a break,” came Harry Potter’s voice from an apparently empty space. Jethro pressed himself behind a convenient pillar as Potter and the girl — probably Hermione Granger, based on what Tony had told him — put a large object down with a slight thump.

“We haven’t got much time, they said to be at the Astronomy Tower at midnight,” Granger fretted. Her black robe disappeared — she must have pulled the ‘Cloak’ back over herself.

Making a decision, Jethro called, “I wouldn’t go there. Second-years have Astronomy tonight.”

Granger’s disembodied voice let out a tiny scream, and the tip of a wand appeared hovering in the air. “Who’s there?” demanded Potter’s voice.

Jethro stepped out with his hands up. “Just me.”

“Gibbs.” The wand tip lowered and disappeared under the ‘Cloak.’ “What are you doing here?”

“Could ask you the same thing, Potter.”

“You know each other?” Granger squeaked.

“He saved our lives against the troll, Hermione,” Potter explained quietly. There was the sound of shifting fabric, and suddenly Potter, Granger, and a large crate were unveiled. Potter held a silvery sheet of cloth in his hand — some sort of invisibility-inducing cloak?

“What do you have there?” Jethro asked. As if on cue, there were several thumps and a low growl. “Never mind, don’t want to know. Try the Divination Tower, it’s empty. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Granger repeated.

Jethro shrugged. “Trelawney’s probably passed out drinking. Like usual.”

Granger looked alarmed, but Potter nodded. “We’ll do that. C’mon, Hermione. We can signal Charlie with sparks. Gibbs, would you…?” He held out the silvery Cloak, which Jethro took with a nod. He waited for Granger and Potter to hoist up the crate, then draped the fabric over them, vanishing them from sight.

“Thanks again, Gibbs,” Potter said. Jethro raised his hand in farewell, then turned back toward Gryffindor Tower and the hidden passageway. The thought crossed his mind that what Potter and Granger had in their crate would probably get them in a load of trouble, but he shrugged. Let them handle their own consequences.

The next morning, Tony flew up to him when he entered the Great Hall. “Gibbs! Can you believe this!?” He pointed at the Gryffindor hourglass, which had lost 150 points. “On the bright side, Slytherin’s down by fifty too.”

Jethro hummed, and Tony stopped walking to stare at him closely. “You know something.”

“Maybe.” Jethro lowered his voice and told him about meeting Potter and Granger the night before. “Dunno why one-fifty, though. Seems odd to take off seventy-five points each.”

“But not fifty points, if it’s serious enough,” Tony finished the thought. “I bet another Gryffindor was out last night. At least one Slytherin, too. And all of them got caught.” He scowled at Potter and Granger, who hunched together furtively at the Gryffindor table. “Think I should interrogate then, boss?”

Jethro stared at the pair thoughtfully. Potter seemed to feel his gaze and looked up, meeting Gibbs’ eyes with a deer-in-headlights expression. Jethro smirked and turned away. “Nah, leave ‘em be. When the deed is done, walk away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to everyone who's taken the time to check out this story! Please leave a comment and kudos if you liked it -- feedback will always, always be appreciated!


	5. Ending the Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ducky shows off his rookie Healing spells, Gibbs gets an owl, and credit is given where credit is due.

_June 1992. Clock Tower Landing_

Ducky had just cracked open his Transfiguration book when Tony burst onto the landing, wide-eyed and breathing hard. “DUCKY! Please tell me you got the hang of those healing spells you were talking about.”

Alarmed, Ducky rose. “Is someone hurt?”

Tony nodded. “Third floor by the forbidden corridor. Hurry — I’m going to get Madam Pomfrey.” He dashed off, and Ducky hesitated for a split second, grabbed his wand and the Healing textbook he’d been teaching himself out of, then ran. 

Down the hall, up the stairs, around several corners — Ducky skidded to a halt. There was a red-headed boy groaning on the ground while a girl with bushy brown hair hovered anxiously nearby, wringing her hands. She looked up hopefully as he approached. “Are Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall coming?”

“Tony is on his way to the Hospital Wing as we speak, but I don’t know about the professor,” Ducky replied, kneeling down next to the boy. “Oh dear, what happened here?”

“I’m fine,” the boy muttered, wincing as he tried to prop himself up on his elbows. Ducky gently pushed him back down, and he subsided. “Who’re you, anyway? Paddington said he was getting Madam Pomfrey.”

“Donald Mallard, fourth-year, Ravenclaw,” Ducky replied. “I expect Tony came to me first because I was closer than the Hospital Wing and I’m studying to be a Healer. I can try to help while we wait.”

“But you’re in fourth year. Healing’s only for N.E.W.T.-level students,” the girl said. 

“The library is a wonderful and free repository of knowledge for those who seek to learn,” Ducky said, taking out his wand. “Let’s see what we have here… _Medicus Revelio._ ” His wand-tip glowed a light blue, and he waved it slowly over the boy’s body. “Oh my… extensive bruising from what appears to be a frontal assault, one broken wrist, the other a broken arm, two cracked ribs, and a concussion. You’re lucky there’s no internal bleeding.”

The girl gave a little whimper. “Will Ron be okay?”

Ducky sat back. “I’m sure he’ll be fine once Madam Pomfrey gets here. I can try a Pain-Alleviation Charm, if you’d like, Mr…?”

“Weasley, Ron Weasley.” The boy nodded with a grimace. “And that’s Hermione Granger.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintances. Now… _Levaredolor._ ” Ducky frowned when Weasley shifted experimentally and yelped. “My apologies. I’ve only tried this one a few times before.” He swished his wand and repeated the incantation, and this time Weasley gave a blissful sigh, visibly relaxing. 

“Now I’m going to put you in a Full Body-Bind, to stabilize your bones,” said Ducky, raising his wand. “Don’t panic. I’ll try to keep your head free if possible. _Petrificus Totalus Lente_.” With his glowing white-blue wand, Ducky slowly drew the spell over Weasley’s body, starting from his feet and moving up to his neck. Sweat formed on his skin from the strain of keeping control over the spell, but finally Ducky sat back with a breath of relief. 

Weasley looked over his stiff-as-a-board body, fascinated. “Blimey, I didn’t know you could do that!”

“What was that incantation you added?” asked Granger, curiosity overriding worry.

“ _Lente_ is a suffix charm, to slow down the execution of the spell it’s attached to,” explained Ducky, panting. “Excuse me — need to catch my breath —”

Just then, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall swept around the corner. Professor Dumbledore took in the scene and said, “He’s still in there, isn’t he?” before striding toward the forbidden corridor’s entrance and disappearing through the door. Ducky exchanged baffled glances with Gibbs, who had appeared behind Professor McGonagall. The Gryffindor Head flicked her wand at Weasley, whose eyes widened as his body lifted into the air.

“Come along, all of you,” she ordered. “Miss Granger, tell me what happened on the way.”

And so, in the walk to the Hospital Wing, Jethro and Ducky listened to the first-year’s fantastical and mildly horrifying tale of the cerberus guarding the trapdoor, the Devil’s Snare, and a roomful of enchanted flying keys. They ran into Tony and Madam Pomfrey; the latter took over the levitation spell as Granger spoke about Harry Potter catching the correct key by broom, then entering a room with a massive chessboard. Professor McGonagall’s mouth thinned and her eyes glistened when Granger told them that in their life-sized chess game, the opposing queen had viciously beat on Weasley in his capture. Finally, she spoke about the potions room, solving the riddle, and Potter going on while she helped Weasley return to the surface.

“We ran into Gibbs and Paddington where you found us,” she said, teary-eyed on a chair by Ron’s bedside in the Hospital Wing. Ducky kept half an eye on Madam Pomfrey bustling around casting spells and the other half of his attention on the story, since Professor McGonagall appeared to have forgotten that he, Jethro, and Tony were even present. Until now, that is.

“Gibbs went to find you, Professor, and Tony went to find Madam Pomfrey, but…” Granger’s eyes flicked to Ducky. 

Tony piped up. “I knew where Ducky — Donald Mallard — was, and it was pretty much on the way to the Hospital Wing. He’s been practicing Healing spells, so I stopped by and asked him to head over first before going on.”

Professor McGonagall turned to Ducky expectantly, and Madam Pomfrey paused to listen when he spoke. “When I arrived, Mr. Weasley was on the ground, in pain. I used _Medicus Revelio_ to take a diagnostic, then cast a Pain-Alleviation Charm, and lastly put him in a Partial Body-Bind to stabilize his bones just before you arrived, professor. None of his injuries were life-threatening, but I’m only just beginning to learn Healing spells, so I couldn’t do anything for them.”

“I wouldn’t have expected you to, Mr. Mallard,” Madam Pomfrey said briskly. “Internal injuries are much more difficult to repair than surface wounds. And a Partial Body-Bind…” She clucked her tongue approvingly. “No small feat. For someone who has had no Healing training, what you did was already rather impressive. Minerva, if you would, on my behalf?”

Professor McGonagall nodded. “I agree. Fifty points to Ravenclaw, Mr. Mallard. Well done.”

“Thank you, professor,” Ducky said with a shy smile. Tony gave him a congratulatory thump on the shoulder.

“Mr. Gibbs, Mr. Paddington, you both did the right thing, coming to find us,” Professor McGonagall continued. “Fifteen points each to Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.” Now it was Tony’s turn to duck his head with a grin and Gibbs to shift his weight, pleased but uncomfortable.

“I must ask the three of you not to speak about what happened in the gauntlet,” Professor McGonagall said sternly. “I imagine the story will come out eventually, but that choice lies with the headmaster. Understood?”

They nodded.

“Good. You are all dismissed.”

On their way out, they could hear her beginning to lecture Granger and Weasley.

“Wouldn’t want to be them,” Tony commented sympathetically. “Hey, what do you think happened to Potter?”

~.~+~.~

_June 1992. Just before the End-of-Year Feast. Great Hall._

The Sorcerer’s Stone gauntlet was all anyone could talk about. 

Students were only just starting to trickle into the Great Hall when Tony slunk over to where Jethro sat at the Hufflepuff table and settled himself on the bench. Jethro raised an eyebrow.

“Couldn’t stand another minute of Percy Weasley going on about Ron,” Tony admitted. “I mean, most Gryffindors are good people, but some of their egos have inflated like balloons.” 

Jethro snorted in amusement. “Maybe they’re trying to compensate,” he said, eyeing the green and silver banners draped across the walls.

Tony scowled at the colors. “That’s understandable.”

“Look, it’s a lion at the badger’s table,” sneered a voice from behind them. Tony and Jethro turned to see Malfoy, smirking. “Guess the lion didn’t have claws after all, isn’t that right?” Malfoy’s posse — his goons plus a pug-faced girl and a taller boy with an arrogant bearing — laughed unpleasantly.

“Well, badgers have been known to eat snakes,” commented Jethro mildly. The laughter stopped. The girl and the boy looked at each other uncertainly. Malfoy sneered but backed down, stalking away with his nose in the air.

“Do they really?” asked Tony once Malfoy’s gang was out of earshot.

Jethro shrugged. “Some of ‘em, I think. You staying here?”

“Do you think I could get away with it?”

A half-smile quirking his lips, Jethro gave his friend a small push. “Go. Celebrate with your House.”

“Celebrate?” repeated Tony, giving him a curious look. “Is this another gut feeling of yours?”

“I think the headmaster has something to say,” Jethro replied cryptically as Dumbledore made his way to the podium. Tony hesitated, then slid off the bench and made his way back to the Gryffindor table.

Later, after Gryffindor turned the tables with 170 last-minute points, after the Great Hall shook to its foundations with the force of the cheers (and though Jethro drew the line at whooping and screaming, he stood, clapped, and caught Tony’s eye with a rare, open grin on his face), after everyone had settled down to eat with red-and-gold banners hanging overhead, someone cleared their throat behind him.

“Gibbs?” Harry Potter looked self-conscious, almost shy. Jethro couldn’t blame him. Nearby Hufflepuffs were already taking notice. He stood and together they stepped away from the table.

“Yeah, what?” he said, once they’d put some distance between them and the curious badgers.

“I heard from Ron and Hermione what you did,” Potter began hesitantly. “I’ve already told Paddington, but I wanted to say… thank you. For helping Ron and Hermione after they got out. And for that night, when we were going to the Astronomy Tower.”

“... Even though you got caught?” asked Jethro.

Potter nodded. “We would have been in so much more trouble if Professor McGonagall had seen —” He cut himself off. “Anyway, I wish Professor Dumbledore had given you and your friends some points. Even if it wouldn’t have made a difference, you deserve it.”

Jethro scrutinized Potter, making the younger boy squirm a bit, then let a smile spread over his face. “Thanks for the sentiment. Don’t need it, though — McGonagall had it covered.”

“Really? That’s good, then.” Potter smiled back, shifting a little awkwardly. “Could you — I mean, I don’t know Mallard, I never saw him but Ron and Hermione did, so —”

Jethro pointed out Ducky at the Ravenclaw table. “That’s him.”

“Oh. Good.” Potter took a deep breath, then held out his hand. “Thank you, Gibbs.”

With a chuckle, Jethro shook it.

~.~+~.~

_Last day of term. Hogwarts Express._

It took both Jethro and Ducky to pull Tony away from the thestrals at the carriage stop — _why_ DiNozzo was so fascinated by the zombie-dragon-horses, Jethro could not say — and after bidding Jethro and Tony farewell, Ducky left to find his Ravenclaw friends. 

“So, are you just staying home for the summer?” asked Tony as the train whistled and began moving.

Jethro nodded. “My dad wants me to take summer classes,” he said, and Tony made a face. “Yeah, that’s what I thought too. But he said he wants to make sure I get a normal education, in case I wanna go to university.”

“That makes sense,” said Tony thoughtfully. “MIM had mandatory No-Maj subjects, you know — math, language arts, history, science. I was kind of surprised that Hogwarts didn’t offer any, but I figured that MIM was just different because it’s an elite private school —” Abruptly, he clamped his mouth shut, cheeks tingeing red.

Jethro thought he could guess the reason. Hogwarts was expensive, and Jethro was attending on scholarship. On the other hand, Tony was a Paddington, part of a wealthy noble family. Still… Jethro leaned forward and head-slapped him.

Tony winced. “Thanks boss. Hey, come to think, Magical Britain’s kind of closed off, isn’t it? Do Hogwarts graduates even go to college?”

Jethro shrugged. “Don’t see why not. Not that Malfoy kid though.”

“Yeah, no way. Can you imagine?” Tony adopted a mock-aloof air. “ _Draco Malfoy, the scion of the noble houses of Malfoy and Black, mingling with the commoners!_ He wouldn’t last a week.”

“Doubt he would pass the entrance exam. Dunno if he can even do math.”

Tony snickered, then tapped his fingers in thought. “Anyway, I guess that is a big difference between Magical Britain and America, huh? From what Mom showed me, American wizards are pretty integrated into No-Maj society, and well-hidden. Leftover effect from the Salem witch trials, apparently.” He eyed Jethro, who was leaning forward a little in interest. “Maybe you’re onto something with your mundane studies.”

Jethro read the request in his expression, and sat back with a frown. “Paddington Manor have an address?”

“No, but I’ll owl you every week if you send me your notes.”

“Works for me.”

~.~+~.~

_July 1992. Gibbs residence._

“Leroy! Come down for dinner!”

“Give me a minute!” 

Jethro tapped his pen against the packet of notes on his desk impatiently. It was Friday, which meant Tony’s owl should be here, only it _wasn’t_ and Jethro was very pointedly trying not to feel worried.

There was a tapping at the window. “Finally!” Jethro grumbled, opening it and blinking at the great gray owl on the windowsill. “Huh. You’re not Chegwidden.”

The unfamiliar owl hooted and held out its leg. With quick, efficient movements, Jethro swapped his notes for the scroll and untied the string on the package, opening the box to reveal a slab of Butterbeer Fudge — every other week or so, Tony insisted on sending him some weird wizard candy — and, oddly, an owl care kit and a bag of owl treats. The owl sat there expectantly, and Jethro raised his eyebrows at it before fishing a treat out of the bag and handing it over. “Fine, fine, here you go.” The owl glared back in a distinctly unimpressed manner, then looked pointedly at the scroll. Jethro huffed and unrolled it, squinting at Tony’s messy scrawl.

_Hey Jethro!_

_You bastard, why didn’t you tell me your birthday was in May? If I had known, I would have gotten you something, but oh well, better late than never. Crispian got all in a huff about how I kept commandeering Chegwidden — you should have heard him, going on and on about “He’s the family owl, Tony, not your personal owl, I’m going to block your mail” and blah blah blah, and yeah old Cheg’s been doing a lot of flying but Crispian owls his girlfriend at least as much as I write you, so there — but anyway, my point is: happy late birthday, Jethro, here’s an owl for you. Now Crispian can’t do anything to my mail, ha! And don’t go moping about “I don’t need a gift” or whatever, because you ARE my best friend and this way we can write all we want. I sent you some owl treats and basic care materials, but he should be able to take care of himself, mostly. You’ll just need to have a perch or somewhere for him to sleep when he wants._

_Uncle Clive’s still being a crotchety old bastard about having a No-Maj-born wizard over to visit, and Crispy’s not helping. (He hates that nickname, by the way.) I don’t think it’s going to happen this year, Jethro. I’ll convince them eventually, you can count on it. Or I’ll at least convince them to let me visit you. AAARGH, sometimes I get really tired of being in a magical home all day. I haven’t had pizza in MONTHS. At least in New York we could interact with the mundane world… well, no use complaining now._

_Anyway, I included those Potions notes you asked for. Ducky sent them, so they’re probably right. See ya._

_— Tony._

_P.S. I thought I’d leave the naming up to you._

Jethro shuffled through the other sheets in the envelope, then looked up at the owl, which had flapped over to Jethro’s bed and was perched on the headboard, digging its talons into the wood. Hooting disapprovingly, it glided to Jethro’s desk.

“Hey,” Jethro growled. “Stop that. You’re ruining the wood.”

The owl tilted its head and fluttered to Jethro’s shoulder. Staggering a little under the weight, Jethro craned his neck to look at it. He had seen other students’ owls perch on their shoulders and nip and coo at them in affection, but Jethro doubted he had endeared himself to this grizzled gray owl despite the treat earlier.

The owl hooted, then whacked its wing over Jethro’s head.

“What the — _DiNozzo!_ ” Jethro yelped. “Tony taught you that, didn’t he?”

The owl hooted in satisfaction and pushed off Jethro to glide over to his bed. Jethro glared at it. “Look, I didn’t know you were coming or I’d have made a perch.” The owl ignored him and snuggled down into his pillow. Jethro resigned himself to picking owl feathers out of his sheets later. 

But for now, he had to face his father with requests for pizza and an owl perch. What a fun conversation that would be.

~.~+~.~

_Hi Jethro!_

_Thanks for the pizza, you’re a lifesaver. But “Fornell," really? How the heck did you come up with that name?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap for Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone! Rest assured that future books will involve many, many more chapters... I haven't even finished writing Chamber of Secrets yet and it has ten chapters already.
> 
> Fun fact though: in the first draft of this story, the previous chapter ("When They Ran into the Golden Trio") included the entire first section of this chapter AND acted as the conclusion to Sorcerer's Stone. I think I feel better for having closed out the book, though, and I had an opportunity to make more NCIS references~~ Fornell the great gray owl and Tony's thestral obsession were both entirely unplanned, but they seem to be working out so far... what do you guys think?
> 
> Notes:  
> \- "Medicus Revelio," "Levaredolor," and "Lente" are all made-up spells  
> \- Honey badgers can and will eat poisonous snakes


	6. When They Wore the Sorting Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which each of our favorite investigators gets Sorted.

_The Sorting, 1988. Mallard, Donald._

“Hello, Mr. Mallard.”

“... Hello.”

“I do believe this will be an easy choice, and I sense you agree. RAVENCLAW!”

~.~+~.~

_The Sorting, 1990. Gibbs, Leroy Jethro._

“Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Mouthful of a name, isn’t it?”

“...”

“Not even a hello?”

“... you’re a talking hat.”

“Indeed I am. Telepathic as well. Does that surprise you?”

“...”

“Ah, the ever-interesting answer of ‘Yes and No.’ Quite understandable. You are taking everything very well for a Muggleborn. Now let’s see… enormous capacity for leadership, hmm? Very Slytherin.”

A flash of discomfort.

The Hat chuckled. “Not to worry, there’s more here than that. Stubborn and brave, very Gryffindor, but not without reason. Ah — impressive. A strong sense of justice. You, my boy, are above all a defender. An alpha wolf, if you will. You only need to find your pack.”

“...”

“Better be HUFFLEPUFF!”

~.~+~.~

_The Sorting, 1991. Palmer, James._

“No need to be nervous.”

A yelp. “Uhm, w-what?”

“James, was it? Ah, I see you prefer Jimmy. Jimmy, there’s no need to be nervous. This will only take a moment.”

“You make it sound like I’m about to have surgery!”

“Surgery, hm?”

“P-please don’t carve out my brain!”

A snort. “Don’t be silly, boy. Well, clearly not Gryffindor or Slytherin. Intellectual, yes… but above that, _kind_. Supportive.”

“Oh. Um, thanks?”

“Don’t ever let anyone stop you by calling you strange, Jimmy. You’ll do well in HUFFLEPUFF!”

_Paddington, Anthony._

“You’re a talking hat. You’re a _talking hat_. I mean, I know magic can do some crazy stuff, but this is _extra_ crazy! And kind of cool, but also a little creepy. Like, I’m thinking this right now, can you hear me? Can you read my thoughts?

“I’ve rarely seen a mind buzz at this speed, young Paddington.”

The whirling maelstrom of excited — and nervous — thoughts slowed. “My name’s DiNozzo.”

“The school registry would say otherwise.”

“The school registry says what my guardian tells it to say, but I’m not really a Paddington.”

“Your magical signature disagrees. It’s quite distinctly Paddington magic.”

A flash of surprise. “What does that mean?”

“Magic is both hereditary and familial, young man. The successive inheritance of magic through many, many generations of a family produces its own unique… flavor, shall we say.”

A beat. “Well, the school might call me Paddington, but I’m a DiNozzo, just like I’m a New Yorker. Born and raised.”

“And yet you are here.”

A swell of sullen anger. Several long moments of silence.

“I’m sorry, Anthony. I did not mean to dredge up unhappy memories.”

“... I’m fine.”

“Remarkable, considering your past…”

Energy, like a flame sparking to life. “What do you mean by _that_?”

“Simply that not many children can suffer such neglect and yet emerge so strong, with a character of his own.”

The flame dimmed. The Hat imagined the boy poking at the ground with a toe, unwilling to meet gazes. Then, a mental laugh, slightly forced. “When did this turn into a counseling session? I don’t need a shrink. You don’t do this with every student, do you?”

“A good point, Mr. Paddington—”

“ _DiNozzo_.”

“As you wish. To business, then. Let’s see…”

A flare of magic. “What are you doing?”

“Skimming your memories, your emotions, your values — the things that make you, you.”

“... That’s creepy. Stop that. Get out of my head!”

“With all due respect, however little that may be, I was _created_ to, as you say, ‘get in your head.’”

“I don’t care. Just put me somewhere so I can leave.”

“... As you wish. Not Ravenclaw, certainly, and you lack a desire for personal advancement, so not Slytherin. Headstrong, stubborn — I believe I will put you in GRYFF—”

The Hat was practically ripped off before it finished its proclamation.

~.~+~.~

_The Sorting, 1992. McGee, Timothy._

“Ah, John McGee’s son. I remember that boy. One of the most suited to Slytherin I have ever Sorted.”

A flinch. “Then that’s where I want to be.”

“Are you sure, Timothy? I see a proclivity toward knowledge. You like books, and — oh, interesting —”

“ _Don’t!_ ”

“No one can hear us but you and me.”

Vigorous mental shaking of the head. 

“I promise you, no one has ever gotten a secret out of me in my centuries of existence, and no one ever will. There is nothing wrong with finding Muggle technology interesting.”

A whimper.

“You would be very well-suited to Ravenclaw.”

“NO! No. I have to be in Slytherin.”

“... Very well. SLYTHERIN!”

After the boy left the stool, the Hat murmured, “I suppose a drive to please the father may be seen as ambition…”

_Scuito, Abigail_.

“Hi, Mr. Sorting Hat!”

“Hello, Miss Scuito.”

“I’d like to be in Ravenclaw, please. I think I’m a good fit, and my friend Luna is already there.”

The Hat chuckled. “So polite! And such an inquisitive mind. I quite agree. RAVENCLAW!”

_Todd, Caitlin._

“Hmm. Very clear ambition — a drive to be the best. Must come from having three older brothers.”

“How do you know that?”

Chuckle. “I’m telepathic, Miss Todd. How else would I Sort students? Ah, interesting.”

“What?”

“Though your personality is well-suited to Slytherin, the House of ambitious, cunning, leaders, your heritage may put you at risk of discrimination by fellow students.”

Her chin raised. “I’m not scared.”

“You have a strong sense of chivalry and right and wrong. You could do well in Gryffindor.”

“Put me in Slytherin. I’ve never backed down from a challenge and I never will.”

The Hat chuckled again. “Ironically, that is a trait Gryffindors and Slytherins share. The difference lies only in how one approaches the challenge. Very well, if you insist — SLYTHERIN!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a transition chapter into Chamber of Secrets for y'all. Hope you enjoy -- drop a comment with any thoughts or reactions!


	7. When Kate Tried to Make Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate realizes that school troubles like bullying and prejudice don't disappear just because everyone is magical.

_ September 1, 1992. Slytherin Girls’ Dormitory. _

They sat in a circle in the… well, Kate wouldn’t call the dorm cozy, but maybe the flickering lamps and murky green water outside the windows would eventually feel more homey. Six eleven-year-old girls, newly Sorted.

“Let’s all introduce ourselves,” said one girl, tossing her curly dark hair. “We’re going to be Housemates and yearmates, and Slytherins always stick together. I’ll go first. I’m Adelaide Murton, pureblood.”

_ Pureblood _ ? Kate hadn’t heard that term before.

“Bridget Delany, pureblood,” said the next girl. The brunette twins were “Hestia and Flora Carrow, pureblood,” and then the blonde girl, looking down shyly, introduced herself as “Viola Richmond, half-blood.”

The other girls murmured sympathetically.

“Which parent?” Flora Carrow asked.

“My father’s the Muggle,” Viola said hesitantly. “I was always closer with my mum, who’s a witch.”

Ah. Now Kate understood. And now, it was her turn.

“Caitlin Todd, but I go by Kate,” she said with confidence she didn’t quite have. “Both my parents are Muggles —”

Bridget Delany gasped in scandalized shock.

“But my grandmother was a Squib,” Kate hurried to add. She had found that out when Professor McGonagall came to tell her she was a witch. 

The other girls exchanged glances.

“I suppose that could technically make you a half-blood,” said Hestia.

Adelaide Murton nodded decisively. “Yes, let’s go with that. After all, there’s no way Slytherin House would choose a Mudblood.”

The word was spoken casually, but from the way Viola nervously glanced at Kate, she sensed that it wasn’t as innocuous as Adelaide made it sound. The Hat’s words rang in her head as they turned in for the night:  _ Your heritage may put you at risk of discrimination by fellow students _ . Kate didn’t miss how only Viola was willing to sleep in the beds flanking hers (Bridget took the bed on Kate’s other side with obvious reluctance), nor how the twins whispered together while shooting her glances, nor how Adelaide’s eyes lingered on her.

Bloody Hat.

Word got around fast. By the time she re-entered the Slytherin common room the next morning, where the first-years has gathered in preparation of going to breakfast together — “Slytherins always put up a united front,” Adelaide declared — the boys were also either glancing at her with veiled scorn or ignoring her existence. When she tried to chime into the conversation the girls held as they walked up to the Great Hall, none of them were responsive; only Viola would even look at her, but it seemed that, in true ambitious Slytherin fashion, the half-blood wanted to keep her own tenuous social standing rather than make friends with the quasi-Muggleborn.

_ Spineless and shallow, wouldn’t want to be friends with her anyway, _ Kate thought to herself spitefully, then chided herself for her judgmental thoughts. 

They had just started on breakfast when there was a commotion at the Gryffindor table. All of a sudden, a furious female voice boomed through the Hall, making Kate jump in her seat. “RONALD WEASLEY! HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR! I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY’D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU—!” and on and on. Once the last echoes of the message faded away, Kate asked no one in particular, “What was that?”

She didn’t really expect an answer, seeing as the other first-years had left a halo of empty space around her, but then a quiet, hesitant voice said, “It’s called a Howler, a type of magical letter. Weasley must have done something really bad to get one.”

“You’re… McGee, right? Timothy McGee.”

McGee nodded, glancing quickly up at her then back down at his plate. Kate offered a friendly smile. “I’m Kate Todd.”

“I know,” McGee said shyly. 

Kate sighed in frustration. “Doesn’t everyone.”

~.~+~.~

_ October 1992. _

Well, Kate resolved to herself, if her fellow Slytherins didn’t want to be friends — unified front, ha! — she’d just have to try other Houses. 

Kate began Operation Meet-People-in-Other-Houses (hey, the name was a work in progress) in Herbology. They were in the greenhouse, three to a Flutterby bush, and Kate inserted herself next to two Ravenclaws who looked like a yin-yang symbol. One girl had flowing pale blonde hair and dreamy silver eyes. The other had black hair tied up in two pigtails, bold, dark makeup, and strangely enough wore a black spiked collar around her neck. Despite her Goth appearance, she smiled brightly and chatted nonstop to her friend.

“Hello,” Kate greeted. “Mind if I join you?”

Two pairs of eyes turned to her. The Goth grinned. “If you want, sure! We needed a third person anyway. I’m Abby Scuito, and this is my friend Luna Lovegood, we’re in Ravenclaw — well, that was obvious, but anyway, what’s your name?”

Kate blinked at the barrage of words. “Kate Todd, Slytherin, but I guess that’s obvious too.”

Abby’s cheerfulness and energy were infectious, and Kate quite enjoyed working with her. She found Luna a little strange — especially when the other girl suddenly focused on apparently empty space and exclaimed, “Look, the nargles!” — but in an endearing way, and she chalked it up to Ravenclaw eccentricity. When the first-year Slytherins and Ravenclaws next shared a class in Charms, she went straight to the seat next to Abby and Luna, who were happy to partner with her.

Emboldened by her success with the Ravenclaws, during her next class, Flying, she decided to talk with a Gryffindor. Ginny Weasley was initially suspicious when Kate praised her evident aptitude for flying — Ginny’s broom had leapt straight into her hand on command, while Kate had taken two tries — but she had loosened up a little by the end of the lesson. As for Kate, she thought the fiery Gryffindor would be a great friend, and she hoped that Ginny would be willing to give her a chance. 

Until the end of class, when they were all released for lunch that day. Kate looked up from packing her bag and found, to her surprise, Adelaide Murton standing in front of her with her hands on her hips. Bridget, Viola, and the twins fanned out behind her.

“Todd,” Adelaide said, as the field cleared out behind her. “We need to talk.”

Kate felt a shiver of foreboding run down her spine. “Sure, what about?”

Adelaide leaned in. The other Slytherin girls tightened their circle. Kate tried to fight off the feeling of being trapped.

“You need to stop fraternizing with other Houses. We can let a Ravenclaw slide if they’re pureblood and —” Her lip curled a little. “You know,  _ normal _ . But there can be absolutely none of what you were doing with Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs, do you understand?”

Kate stared at them incredulously. “No, I don’t understand. What’s wrong with making friends?”

“There’re blood traitors in Gryffindor, Kate,” Flora said, her tone soft and sympathetic. “And Hufflepuffs, well, they take anyone. Any of them could be Muggleborn, or a traitor, or a coward.” 

“Even Ravenclaw isn’t immune to that,” added Bridget. “Only Slytherin is pure.”

“We understand that you might not know very much about this, with your background,” Hestia said, as sympathetic as her sister. “So trust us, okay? We can’t protect you if you don’t let us.”

Kate shook her head. “Protect me how? And from what?”

“The Hat put you in Slytherin with us for a reason,” Adelaide said decisively. “Obviously, we’re supposed to teach you how to be a proper witch. So listen to me, Todd — stay away from other Houses.” She nodded sharply, the matter settled in her mind, and turned away. “Now let’s go to lunch.”

Kate watched Adelaide and her posse move toward the castle with a sense of disbelief that quickly turned into shocked indignation mixed with confusion. She stormed into the castle, but couldn’t bring herself to enter the Great Hall. Instead, she ducked into a bathroom, where she braced her hands on the sink and took deep breaths.

They were offering to “protect” her. Accept her as one of the club, though Kate suspected she would be the lowest-ranking member. Still, she couldn’t deny her desire to be part of a group. She had been lonely, these past weeks. They may have shunned her to begin with, but now they were offering her a chance.

And yet…

Kate would have to break off her budding friendship with Abby, and for what reason? Because Abby liked to dress in black and spikes? Because Luna was fascinated by the unseeable?

No. Kate had seen discrimination at play, before Hogwarts. And this was discrimination and prejudice at its worst: senseless, without reason, based on nothing more than an outdated superstition. Her family, being Catholic, had always emphasized Christian virtues of being nonjudgmental, compassionate, a good neighbor, and Kate wasn’t about to throw all that away for the sake of being part of the “in-group.”

Sure, she would be alone whenever they weren’t in class with the Ravenclaws. And the Slytherin girls probably wouldn’t take her choice well, but Kate was determined. She’d be fine. Right?

~.~+~.~

_ Halloween 1992. _

It had been two weeks since Kate marched up to Adelaide in the Great Hall and told her clearly that she didn’t agree with what they’d said and that she intended to continue her friendship with Abby and Luna.

It had been two weeks of… small, definitely unconnected incidents. (Kate refused to call it bullying, even in her mind, because she was not weak, she was not a victim, she had been the  _ defender  _ of bullying victims when she was younger, never the target of bullying, and she would never let herself be a victim.)

Kate kept telling herself that she was fine. Just get up, get dressed, hold your head high and proud when you walk (alone) to breakfast. Eat (alone), get out your books, study (alone) before class, do your work and ignore the whispers, the sneers, the feet stuck out to trip her, the elbows that jabbed her. Occasionally, she’d see Abby and Luna in the library outside of class. She didn’t tell them about the other Slytherin girls — why would she? She was doing totally fine. 

She never did get back to Ginny, though. She tried not to acknowledge Adelaide’s hateful stares and the Carrow twins’ whispering behind cupped hands as the reason.

The time she spent in that abandoned bathroom didn’t count either. She was there to keep the ghost, Moaning Myrtle, company, as a favor. (She tried not to think about how listening to Myrtle’s plights made her feel a little better about herself.)

And, she reassured herself, she wasn’t  _ always _ alone. Sometimes someone else would sit with her to study or partner with her in class, and he was even a Slytherin!

She resolutely ignored the fact that Tim McGee, the remarkably un-Slytherin-like Slytherin, was also a loner despite his pureblood status. They were just… helping each other study. (Not giving each other the company they both desperately needed. No, definitely not that.)

Then on Halloween, after the feast, Mrs. Norris, the caretaker’s cat, was found stiff as a board and strung up in a corridor with a bloody message painted on the wall, and yeah, that was creepy and kind of gross, but Kate just couldn’t figure out why McGee was looking at her with such fear and horror in his expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat shorter, but I hope you enjoyed Kate's POV. We'll see McGee next time! Kudos and comment if you're looking forward to it!
> 
> Also, fun fact: All the Slytherin girls are canonically Hogwarts students (if you include all the Harry Potter video games), even if the exact years of their schooling aren't established.


	8. When McGee Began Stalking Kate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tim McGee takes a metaphorical stand.

_ Halloween 1992. The corridor where Mrs. Norris was found Petrified. _

“Enemies of the Heir, beware! You’ll be next, Mudbloods!”

Tim really wished Draco Malfoy didn’t sound as gleeful as he did, because he knew exactly what the message was referring to, and it wasn’t pretty. Glancing around at his fellow Slytherins, he could see that he wasn’t the only one who felt a little uneasy at the implications. 

Then his eyes landed on Kate Todd.

_ Chamber of Secrets. Enemies of the heir. _ His eyes widened in fear. Oh, no.

Once, he had read about the legend of the Chamber of Secrets and then asked his father about the incident fifty years ago, when the Chamber had last opened. Now, one fact stood out above all: Muggleborn students were in danger, and Kate was… maybe not  _ exactly _ Muggleborn, but not exactly half-blood either. The label could apply. Tim doubted Slytherin’s monster cared much about semantics.

Tim knew he was a loner, knew he didn’t fit in with the other Slytherins, but Kate had never cared about that. She was nice, one of the only people to show him kindness and a degree of acceptance, and for those reasons Tim McGee steeled his resolve and made a decision.

The next morning he made sure he was in the common room before her. He left just after she did, and sat down a little distance away at the Slytherin table for breakfast, within easy eyesight and with the doors in view. In every class, he made sure to either partner with her directly or sit at a desk that faced her location. When she went to the library, he went; when she returned to the common room, so did he. 

Until the Chamber of Secrets threat had passed, he would watch over her, using his own pure blood as a shield. She deserved the protection.

~.~+~.~

_ November 1992. Quidditch Pitches. _

Kate was grateful that the Ravenclaw and Slytherin sections were located next to each other in the Quidditch stands, because then she could easily sit with Abby and Luna without attracting strange looks, rather than being isolated by her own Housemates. Ugh, why were Houses such a  _ big deal _ anyway? Was it so wrong to sit with your friends from another House at a sports game? Kate shook her head, reminding herself to stay positive and focused, because oh yeah, this sports game was  _ magical _ and  played  on _broomsticks_.

“You’ve never seen a Quidditch match, have you?” Abby asked with a grin.

“I didn’t know broomsticks could actually  _ fly _ before I came to Hogwarts,” Kate replied. “It looks fun.”

Abby made a face. “Suit yourself. I’m not super excited about possibly getting my arm smashed like Potter over there.”

Kate, though, leaned forward, tracking the balls intently. Before Hogwarts, she had been active in mundane sports, and she was keen to learn about the wizarding version.

Abby nudged her. “You know what I  _ am _ excited about, Kate?”

Kate winced sympathetically as Potter practically bowled Malfoy over in mid-air and crash-landed seconds later. “What?” she asked, the word almost lost in the sudden uproar of the crowd. 

Abby shot her a mischievous grin. “I think there’s a boy following you.” She turned Kate around and pointed. “See him? I swear, every time we’re in the library, he’s in the library.”

Luna hummed as people started standing and leaving. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t have any bad intentions.”

Kate snorted. If McGee tried anything untoward, she could probably snap his arm to make him back off. Having three insane older brothers gave a girl some street-fighting skills. At Abby’s expectant look, Kate explained, “His name’s Tim McGee, Slytherin first-year like me. I sit with him sometimes at meals.”

Abby’s eyes widened. “Maybe he  _ liiiiiikes _ you!”

“Ew, Abby!” Kate grimaced. “We’ve only known each other for two months!”

“He wants something,” Luna interrupted dreamily. “He has a goal, and he’s determined to achieve it.”

“Big surprise, that’s what Slytherins tend to do,” Kate said, but she was a little unnerved. Luna’s intuition was borderline that of a true Seer, and combining what Luna said about goals and McGee’s apparent fixation on her… She frowned.

After bidding farewell to Abby and Luna in the entrance hall, she headed in the direction of the library. Rounding a corner, she stopped and turned, waiting in ambush. When McGee appeared, she grabbed his collar and slammed him against the wall. “Why are you following me, McGee?”

His pale green eyes were wide. “I-I-I wasn’t!”

“Oh really? Then where were you going?”

“C-C-Common room…?”

“Then you should have taken the last turn, right?  _ Why are you following me? _ ” Kate punctuated her question with a shove.

McGee squeezed his eyes closed and squeaked out, “I j-j-just wanted t-to make sure you were s-safe.”

Kate took pity on him and let go of his collar, but didn’t step back. “From what?”

“Slytherin’s monster!” he gasped. Kate frowned, and he added, “From the Chamber of Secrets.”

“What monster? Explain!”

And he did.

“Well, I’m not Muggleborn, so I don’t think it’s a problem.”

McGee shook his head. “Maybe technically you’re not, but on the surface you appear to be. And with what Adelaide Murton’s been saying about you—”

“Adelaide?” Kate’s interest sharpened.

McGee looked uncomfortable. “She, uh, she’s been…” He worried his lip, and Kate smacked her hand on the wall, making him yelp. “ _ McGee! _ ”

“She’s kinda… she’s been telling people you’re Muggleborn, and…” He squeezed his eyes shut again and blurted, “ _ Shesaysyou’reafilthyMudbloodwhodoesn’tdeservetobeinSlytherin _ .”

Kate took a moment to parse that out. Anger roared through her. “That  _ witch _ !” she all but shrieked, her blood boiling.

McGee actually had the gall to look confused. “Um, yeah…? She’s a witch?”

“I mean that she’s — oh, never mind,” Kate snapped. She took several deep breaths, and once she felt calm she said, “Look, I appreciate the thought, but I can protect myself.”

“Kate, it’s a  _ monster _ . It’s  _ killed people _ ,” McGee stressed. “I don’t know how it figures out whether students are Muggleborn or not, but I bet the Heir of Slytherin — whoever he is — he can find out by listening to the students talk, and if they overhear Adelaide or any of her gang, he might send his monster after you, and  _ you can’t fight a monster. _ ”

Kate put her hands on her hips. “And you can?”

“I’m a pureblood,” McGee said, drawing himself up. “Slytherin’s monster won’t attack a pureblood, so as long as I’m with you, you should be safe.”

“Right, because it’ll get frightened off by  _ you _ ,” Kate snarked.

McGee’s eyes flashed with hurt. “No, because it doesn’t  _ want _ to attack me. The legend is all about preserving blood purity. The McGees might not be one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but we’re still a pureblood line, and I’m the heir. It wouldn’t dare.”

Kate stared at him, unable to argue with that logic.

“Besides, I’ve seen how Adelaide’s gang treats you. They might back off if I’m around.”

Kate couldn’t help it, she let out an incredulous laugh. “Because you’re pureblood? Keep dreaming, McGee.” She turned away, but not before seeing another flash of hurt in his eyes that sent a pang of remorse through her own chest. “Thanks for the thought again, but I don’t need protection.”

~.~+~.~

_ The next day. Potions Class. _

“Did you hear? A student was Petrified!”

Kate focused on splitting her attention between her daisy roots and the hushed conversation at the neighboring cauldron.

“Who was it, do you know?”

“Some boy named Colin Creevey? He was brought to the Hospital Wing last night. Tracey Davis saw him when he went for a headache remedy this morning.”

Kate slowly raised her eyes from the cutting board to meet her partner’s expectant gaze. “Alright, maybe I need protection,” she admitted. “Just in case.”

McGee nodded firmly. “Wasn’t planning to go anywhere, Kate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I thought the Kate chapter looked a little lonely without McGee's similarly short intro chapter, so I figured... well, here you go. Gibbs, Tony, and Ducky will return next chapter. Leave kudos and/or a comment if you enjoyed!


	9. When Tony, Ducky, and Abby Followed McGee's Lead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone meets everyone else.

_ November 1992. Ravenclaw Common Room. _

Abby was discussing Kate’s new self-declared pureblood guard with Luna when a soft cough interrupted them. She turned to see a fifth-year boy, bespectacled and kind-eyed.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t help overhearing,” he said. “My name is Donald Mallard, but you may call me Ducky if you’d like.”

Abby lit up. “Oh, I get it! Ducky, like Donald Duck! That’s a Muggle thing, Luna, you wouldn’t know it, but I think you’d like it — you should come over during the summer and I can show you.”

Ducky’s eyebrow had crept upward steadily as she spoke. “I assume you’re half-blood or Muggleborn, Miss…?”

“Scuito, Abby Scuito, and this is Luna Lovegood.” Abby made a face. “Aww, this is about the Chamber of Secrets, isn’t it? Thanks for the concern, Duck-man, but Luna and I are pureblood, so we’re safe. No need to worry.”

Ducky blinked. “You’re pureblood?”

Abby nodded. “Long story short, my parents died in the war, Muggle child services picked me up before the Ministry could, and I grew up in a Muggle household. I only found out about my birth parents years later.”

Ducky seemed to be holding back a smile now. “I would love to hear more stories about that, but back to the matter at hand. My concern is actually for someone else. I heard you mentioning a pureblood guarding his Muggleborn friend?”

“Oh yeah, that’s McGee. But Kate isn't technically Muggleborn, you know? Her grandma’s a Squib, so she’s half-blood. Sorta. Wait, why are we talking about Kate and McGee again?”

Ducky took a seat at their table and leaned forward on his elbows. “Because I have a Muggleborn friend as well, and he has too few other friends for my comfort. So, I was wondering if you and Luna here might be interested in… shall we say, putting a few more eyes on him, for my peace of mind. If you’re willing, I’ll take you to get acquainted. I’m willing to pay, if need be —”

Abby waved her hands. “No, no, I’m happy to help! I’d love to meet your friend, Ducky, and I’ll always be willing to help friends stay together.”

Ducky smiled, relieved. “Splendid! Thank you, Abby.” 

They both turned to Luna, who beamed. “Any friend of Abby’s is a friend of mine.”

“If you’re both free, I can take you to meet him now. We’re studying together in our usual spot,” Ducky said, getting up.

Abby didn’t miss the hint. “He’s not in Ravenclaw?”

“Would I worry so much if he was?” Ducky chuckled. “No, Leroy Jethro Gibbs is the most antisocial Hufflepuff you’ll ever meet. He and Tony Paddington make quite a pair. If they hadn’t been born in two different countries, I’d have sworn they were brothers.”

~.~+~.~

_ That same day. Clock Tower Landing. _

Jethro looked up when Tony called, “Hey, Ducky! Is there a reason we’re meeting here instead of the turret?”

“The turret would be a little bit cramped, Tony,” Ducky said, stepping to the side. “I’ve brought some friends.”

Jethro raised his eyebrows when two girls stepped onto the landing, one dark and one light. Both sported smiles and Ravenclaw badges. He jerked when Tony poked him in the arm. “Gibbs, you were wrong!”

Jethro glared. Tony chuckled. “Last year, in the turret! You said — well, you glared — Ducky wouldn’t bring friends without telling us first. Ack!” He rubbed the back of his head where Jethro had head-slapped him.

“Taken some chicks under your wing, Duck?” Jethro said gruffly.

“Hardly, Jethro. They’re here as a favor to me,” Ducky replied, taking a seat. “These are Miss Abby Scuito and Miss Luna Lovegood.” Scuito gave a wave, and Lovegood just tilted her head, her gaze drifting to the side as if tracking something invisible.

Tony stood up and gave a sweeping bow. “Anthony Paddington, but call me Tony,” he said in his most charming voice. “A pleasure to meet such  _ lovely _ ladies.” 

Scuito giggled, and Jethro rolled his eyes at Tony’s wink and suggestively-waggled eyebrows. Sometimes he wondered whether Tony was really thirteen years old. “Tony, they’re eleven.”

Tony leaned in conspiratorially. “And that crotchety killjoy is Leroy Jethro Gibbs. It’s a mouthful, so just call him Gibbs.”

Jethro blinked under the sudden scrutiny by both Scuito and Lovegood. Oh, wait — on second glance, Lovegood’s focus was on something slightly above Jethro’s head, despite the fact that he was pretty sure there was nothing there but empty space.

“Nice to meet you, Gibbs! Call me Abby,” chirped Scuito, sticking out a hand. “And this is Luna. If we’re going to be friends, no need to be formal!”

Jethro blinked again and exchanged glances with Tony.  _ Friends? _

Abby snapped her fingers. “Luna. Luna! Say hi!”

Luna’s eyes refocused on Jethro’s face. “Hello. You have a very powerful aura. I think it keeps away the nargles.”

“...Thanks?” Jethro said. Tony, catching Jethro’s eye, widened his own eyes and twirled a finger by his head. Jethro narrowed his eyes in a meaningful stare, and Tony held it for a moment before shrugging. 

Abby seemed to realize there was an entire conversation happening under her nose. “Whoa, that was so cool! You two just — like — Tony did  _ this _ , then Gibbs did  _ this _ , and you  _ talked _ ! Are you telepathic? Ducky, are they telepathic?”

“No, just very good friends,” Ducky replied, amused.

“Duck, what’s going on?” Jethro finally asked.

Ducky sobered. “Well, Abby and Luna were talking about a certain idea implemented by the Housemate of one of their friends. You see, Abby and Luna are pureblood —”

Jethro scowled. “ _ No _ , Duck. I know where this is going.”

“The Chamber of Secrets —”

“Is open, yeah, I know,” Jethro growled. “Tony’s already on my case about it —”

“Because you’re  _ No-Maj-born _ , Boss, you’re at risk —”

“I can take care of myself —”

“Boys!” Ducky snapped, and Jethro and Tony fell silent at the Ravenclaw’s uncharacteristically sharp command. Ducky took a deep breath and said, very seriously, “Jethro, I brought Abby and Luna here because Tony is right, you  _ are  _ at risk. Hear me out!” Jethro shut his mouth at Ducky’s intense glare. “Unlike most of the other Muggleborn students, however, you do not have a network of friends within and outside your House who may offer you their protection — unless you’ve decided to branch out these past few months?”

“Not at all, Ducky!” Tony piped up, then shrank back at Jethro’s betrayed glare. “Sorry Boss.” Jethro bumped him gently on the shoulder as Ducky continued.

“Further, though I will never doubt the strength of Anthony’s loyalty to you, Jethro, not only can he not be everywhere at once, he is a half-blood. Based on the Chamber’s legend and history, I do not believe half-bloods are at risk of being specifically targeted, but should the Heir of Slytherin fixate on a particular Muggleborn student, I doubt he will let a half-blood student get in his way. Hence, Abby and Luna. Their being pureblood means that the Heir will actively avoid attacking when one or both — or any other pureblood — is present. They have kindly volunteered to keep an additional guard on you, Jethro.”

Jethro averted his eyes. “Don’t wanna impose on anyone, Duck.”

Abby bounced up and put her hands on her hips. “You’re not imposing! Luna, why does everyone seem to think we’re not happy to help for the sake of helping?”

“Could be Wrackspurts,” Luna replied dreamily. “They make it difficult for you to think, you know.”

“Well, whatever it is, it’s silly.” She leaned forward and met Jethro’s eyes. “Listen up, Gibbs! You’re not getting rid of us, so you may as well accept that we’re here to help, got me?” Her tone softened. “And I’d like to think we could become friends along the way, too. Okay?”

Jethro stared into her determined eyes and earnest expression and felt himself softening as well. He sighed and gave her a small smile. “Okay.”

Abby beamed, and Tony clapped her on the shoulder. “Welcome to the club! Hey, Gibbs, does this mean I’m not the Cub anymore?”

“Not a chance, Paddington.”

~.~+~.~

Jethro would never admit that he enjoyed Abby’s exuberant presence or Luna’s calming aura, but he didn’t like the thought of needing to be, well,  _ protected _ . Like he was powerless. When the notice for a Duelling Club appeared on the Hufflepuff common room message board, he signed up at once.

Across the castle, Kate did the same thing.

Tony quite enjoyed Abby and Luna’s presence — he’d quickly developed a soft spot for the vivacious Goth, though he never really knew how to respond to Luna’s frequent non sequiturs. But no matter how good their intent, both girls were only in first year, and Ducky was planning to be a Healer — in other words, Gibbs’ only extra line of actual defensive/offensive power was Tony himself. For that, he started looking up combat spells, and joined the Duelling Club listing without hesitation.

Across the castle, McGee did the same thing, only the monsters that lurked in his vision were both mythical and human. Duelling could give him a leg up, especially when he knew that Adelaide and her gang, confident in their pureblood immunity, wouldn’t be going.

~.~+~.~

_ Mid-December 1992. Great Hall. First Meeting of the Duelling Club. _

When they were told to pair up, Tony and Jethro exchanged glances and moved to face each other.

“So, I’ve been practicing,” stated Tony casually.

Jethro smirked. “So have I. Ready?”

They bowed and raised their wands. Tony moved first. “ _ Expelliarmus! _ ”

Jethro instinctively slashed his wand in a diagonal arc that caught the jet of red light and deflected it to the side, narrowly missing two nearby Slytherins. The impact forced him to stagger back, but he recovered quickly. Flicking his wand, Jethro took his turn. “ _ Expelliarmus! _ ”

Tony dodged to the side. The spell traveled over his left shoulder, and they heard a startled yelp. Wide-eyed, they exchanged looks.

“Lockhart didn’t plan this out very well, did he?”

Jethro snorted. “Ya think?”

~.~+~.~

McGee jumped with a squeak when a jet of red light flew past him from the direction of a neighboring pair of third-years. “Do you even know this spell?” he asked Kate nervously.

“No, but they clearly do,” she said, eyeing the pair. Then, raising her chin, she marched over to the older boys. “Excuse me!”

They turned to her, one a stoic dark-haired, ice-eyed Hufflepuff, the other a grinning brown-haired, green-eyed Gryffindor.

“My partner and I haven’t learned this spell yet—” All of them ducked as a spell shot over their heads. “We saw you practicing and wondered if you would teach us?”

The boys exchanged glances. The Hufflepuff shrugged. “Not like Lockhart’s teaching.”

The Gryffindor smirked and winked suggestively. “I’d be happy to teach the pretty lady. Tony Paddington, pleased to meet you.”

Kate blinked. Was he  _ flirting _ with her? The Hufflepuff smacked his friend on the back of the head, and he amended, “I mean, I’ll take the partner, boss.” His gaze flicked to McGee, who had come up behind Kate. “What’s your name, kid?”

“I’m, uh, Tim McGee,” McGee stuttered. Kate resisted a sigh — he really needed to work on his confidence. The thought crossed her mind that Mr. Charming over there might not be a good influence on timid Tim, but she brushed it off. He’d be fine.

“I’m Kate Todd,” she offered, holding out her hand to the Hufflepuff boy. “First-year, Slytherin.”

“Gibbs,” was his short reply. They shook, then Kate squawked as Gibbs suddenly dragged her downward. Another spell sailed by. It was blue. Gibbs scowled as he helped her up. “Some idiot’s gonna get hurt. That’s not a Disarming Charm.”

“Is that the spell you and Paddington were practicing?”

Gibbs nodded sharply. “Yeah. Useful one. Wand motion’s like this —” He demonstrated the spiral path of the wand-tip. “Incantation’s  _ Expelliarmus. _ ”

“ _ Expelliarmus _ ,” Kate repeated, sounding it out carefully.

“Good. Try it on me.” He backed up a few steps.

Kate pointed her wand at him and drew the spiral. “ _ Expelliarmus! _ ”

Nothing. “Need a faster movement,” Gibbs called. “Quick and sharp.”

Kate flicked her wand. “ _ Expelliarmus! _ ” Still nothing, not even a red spark.

“Again, Todd.”

“ _ Expelliarmus! _ ”

~.~+~.~

“C’mon, kid, make it snappy!”

Tim resisted the urge to groan. Or whimper. “Don’t call me kid,” he protested, raising his wand again. 

That same cocky smirk stayed on Tony’s face. “Maybe if you Disarm me before the room collapses.”

Considering the chaos around them, that moment didn’t seem too far away. McGee swished his wand. “ _ Expelliarmus! _ ” He slumped at the red sparkles that sprang out of his wand-tip.

“Hey, better than nothing, kid — Whoa!” Tony sidestepped a shrieking mass of robes and limbs. Tim’s eyes widened at the sight of Millicent Bulstrode holding a bushy-haired girl in a headlock. The girl, whose tie and badge identified her as a Gryffindor, was struggling furiously.

“ _ Expelliarmus! _ ”

Tony’s voice had lost its playful tone, becoming hard and serious. The Disarming Charm forced Millicent to release her hold on the Gryffindor girl, who gasped for breath. Tim saw Tony open his mouth, clearly about to lay into Millicent, when Professor Snape’s voice boomed out over the entire room. “ _ FINITE INCANTATEM. _ ”

Jets of light fizzled out in mid-air. Students hit by jinxes stopped giggling and dancing uncontrollably, and the room fell quiet. Tim glanced around. Millicent’s duel wasn’t the only one to have gotten out of hand; there were chips in the walls and pillars where spells had ricocheted, and people were groaning on the floor.

Lockhart tittered at the sight of the downed students, sending several off to the Hospital Wing before saying in a flustered voice, “I think I’d better teach you how to  _ block _ unfriendly spells… Let’s have a volunteer pair —”

“How about Malfoy and Potter?” said Professor Snape with a glint in his dark eyes.

Tim exchanged bemused glances with Tony as they and the rest of the students moved closer to the raised platform. To absolutely no one’s surprise, neither second-year used the Shield Charm and the duel went downhill from there. When Potter started making strangled hissing sounds at the massive black cobra that Malfoy had conjured, though, Tim’s eyes widened. Glancing at Tony, he saw his expression mirrored on the older Gryffindor’s face. Without hesitation, both boys shoved their friends behind them.

“What the —” Kate spluttered. Tim shushed her.

“ _ DiNozzo! _ ” Gibbs barked, before freezing and looking wide-eyed at Tony. Tony was distracted by the snake, though, and shook his head at his friend.  _ Not now. _

The cobra slithered closer to the edge of the platform. Tim tensed. Tony’s wand was out and ready, and he tried to take comfort from that.

Potter hissed louder. The snake paused, then abruptly its body went lax. Professor Snape took that moment to step forward and disintegrated the snake with a harsh, “ _ Vipera Evanesca. _ ”

A moment of stunned silence.

“What do you think you’re playing at, Potter?” demanded a Hufflepuff to Tim’s left. Potter seemed shocked speechless.

“This meeting is over,” Snape interrupted curtly. “Return to your common rooms.” A beat. No one moved. “ _ Now! _ ”

The students scattered, gossip wheels already churning away. Those who didn’t understand what had just happened — mainly Muggleborns — learned what a Parselmouth was, and who  _ else _ had been a Parselmouth, and soon the whole school knew what had gone down at the Duelling Club.

~.~+~.~

_ Two days later. _

Rumor had it that Harry Potter was the Heir of Slytherin.

Kate, McGee, and the rest of the Slytherins knew better, because gosh darnit, anyone with half a brain would recognize that the Heir of Slytherin probably had to be, you know, a  _ Slytherin _ . 

“Finch-Fletchley could have been a case of ‘wrong place, wrong time,’” Kate remarked to McGee.

McGee frowned thoughtfully. “And I’ve been thinking about the Duelling Club, and that cobra. You know, just before Professor Snape Vanished it, I could have sworn I saw it go all limp and harmless.”

On the other side of the castle, Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors scattered before Potter as if he was the Dark Lord himself, helped along by the Weasley twins cheerfully declaring “Make way, make way for the Heir of Slytherin!” 

Tony, walking alongside Gibbs on their way to the clock tower landing, grinned fearlessly at the twins and the disgruntled Golden Trio. “Fred, George, I can’t believe you! Are you swearing fealty to a new lord?”

“Why, whatever could you mean, dear little Cub?” asked Fred (or was it George?) innocently. Gibbs stopped and gave him his iciest stare, and the twin yelped and bowed playfully. “No, never, Lord Badger!”

“We are forever at your service,” added the other, bowing with a flourish. 

“But alas! Another expects our service in mere minutes…”

“The dark master known as Severus Snape!”

“Well, off with you then,” said Jethro gruffly, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. He watched the Golden Trio out of the corner of his eye, knowing full well that they were the real targets of this play-acting, and was rewarded with a tiny smile on Potter’s face, Granger’s hand smothering her giggles, and the younger Weasley’s incredulous stare.

Fred gave a mock salute and George called, “Play nice, children!” as they winked and skipped off.

“What just happened?” said Ron Weasley in a strangled voice.

Tony smirked playfully. “The esteemed Lord Badger just stole your two subjects away from you, Potter.”

Almost casually, Gibbs cuffed him over the head. 

“I mean, you won them over with your charming personality, Boss.” 

Granger couldn’t contain her laughter at that, and even Weasley cracked a smile. For a moment, they were just kids joking together in a corridor, and all was well.

Then out of nowhere, there was the sound of pounding feet, a black blur, and suddenly Abby Scuito was there with her wand out, practically shrieking, “Stay away, Heir of Slytherin! I-I-I’m pureblood, you won’t hurt me!”

The playful atmosphere vanished. To Abby’s surprise, resignation flooded Potter’s expression. He looked... weary, and entirely too old for his age. 

“Whoa there!” Tony put a hand on her shoulder and gently pulled her to the side. “Relax, Abbs. It’s okay.”

“Okay?  _ Okay? _ ” Abby spluttered. “How can you — I mean — I  _ heard _ —”

“You heard wrong,” Gibbs interjected shortly.

“You don’t believe I’m the Heir of Slytherin?” came Potter’s quiet question, tinged with hope.

“Ya think I’m playing around with Paddington here because I  _ want  _ to be Petrified, Potter?” 

“You’re Muggleborn?” asked Granger. Gibbs lifted his chin and gave a sharp, proud nod.

Placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder, Tony flashed a megawatt grin. “Y’know, back in the States we have this idea called ‘innocent until proven guilty.’”

“I’m a Parselmouth.”

“Circumstantial,” growled Gibbs. “‘Sides, you’re a good kid.”

“Kid!? You’re only a year older!” retorted Weasley.

“What the boss  _ means _ is that you did a good thing last year, and you’re decent and honest. Don’t think I didn’t see you with Colin Creevey,” added Tony. He turned to his friends. “Abby, Colin practically worshiped Harry, but Harry never treated him badly, and I doubt he woulda Petrified him for wanting an autograph. Plus, Gibbs and I had front-row seats to the snake thing. The cobra stopped when Harry here spoke to it.” 

Gibbs nodded. “Most people didn’t see before Snape Vanished it, and then they were too freaked out to think.”

Abby screwed up her face in thought. Then she marched forward to stand in front of the Golden Trio and put her hands on her hips.

“Alright, you’re off the hook for now,” she declared. “But I’ve got my eye on you, you hear? I won’t let you hurt Gibbs.”

Potter blinked, a bit bemused by this tiny Ravenclaw first-year. “Noted.” He glanced at Gibbs and Tony. “Thank you. I wish more people felt the same way as you.”

“Keep your head up, Harry,” said Tony. Gibbs just dipped his head in a nod, and the group continued to the clock tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed! Also, shout-out to ShadowWolfsDen for commenting on every single chapter so far -- seeing the email notification from your comment always puts a smile on my face. Thank you!


	10. When They Stayed Over the Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony's thestral obsession acts up, Gibbs goes along with it, Abby meets McGee, and Tim finally learns the Disarming Charm.

_ December 1992. Divination Turret. _

In light of the recent attacks, Professor McGonagall had offered students a second chance to make their decisions for Christmas break.

“To stay or not to stay, that is the question,” Tony mused. “Wasn’t that written by some British dude?”

Jethro grunted in affirmation. Ducky looked up from his book. “Your knowledge of literature is astounding,” he said wryly. “In any case, I do believe the best answer is ‘not to stay.’”

Tony poked Jethro on the shoulder. “Boss?”

Jethro looked down and slowly, deliberately, closed his own book and folded his hands. Tony raised his eyebrows. A moment of silence. Ducky cleared his throat. “Sometimes I wonder if Abigail is right and the two of you  _ are _ telepathic. Care to share?”

“Jethro’s staying,” said Tony disbelievingly.

“ _ Staying _ ?” repeated Ducky incredulously. “Jethro! That could be dangerous for you!”

Jethro shifted his weight on his seat. “Not gonna run,” he said finally.

“It’s not running, it’s being prudent,” admonished Ducky.

“Jethro, he has a point,” said Tony gently.

Jethro remained silent, ignoring Tony’s questioning look. He knew he was being hypocritical, refusing to run from Slytherin’s monster, while still actively avoiding his father. Between the two, Jethro could almost honestly say he preferred the monster. Seeing Jackson and his girlfriend… it still hurt too much.

“I don’t suppose anything we say can convince you to go home,” sighed Ducky.

“Unless…” Tony’s eyes lit up. “You wanna come to Paddington House with me?”

Jethro sat up straight, surprised. “Thought you didn’t like going back.”

“I’d do it gladly to keep you safe.”

Warmth spread through Jethro’s chest at the sheer determination in Tony’s voice, but his gut told him it wouldn’t be that easy. “Will your uncle agree?”

“Ah…” Evidently Tony hadn’t considered that. Tony shook himself and jumped to his feet. “Wait here, I’ll run and ask Crispian.” He darted out of the turret.

“What about you, Ducky?”

Ducky fiddled with the page in his book. “Mother wants me home.” He eyed Jethro. “Which is yet another reason why I hope you’re leaving as well. I’ll worry if you stay.”

“... Thanks, Duck.”

~.~+~.~

_ Slytherin Common Room. _

Almost everyone had decided to leave, and Slytherin House was a frenzy of packing and chatter. So, Tim McGee was the only one who noticed the knocking against the entrance portal, and the only one who cared enough to open it and reveal…  _ Tony Paddington? _

Tim slipped into the hallway. “What are you doing here?”

“Official business, McCurious,” replied Tony flippantly. “I’m looking for my cousin Crispian. Seventh year.”

“You wait out here, I’ll go find him.”

Tony chuckled. “Aww, that’s sweet, McProtective. Think they’ll attack me?”

“Gryffindor and Slytherin don’t have the best relationship right now,” said Tim, eyeing Tony’s tie and badge.

“Gryffindor and Slytherin have  _ never _ had a good relationship, McGee. But, if you insist, be my guest.”

After asking around, Tim found Crispian Paddington easily enough. Surreptitiously, he sat in an armchair by the portal and quietly eavesdropped on the rise and fall of the Paddingtons’ voices.

“What’s going on?” asked, Kate, perching on the chair’s arm.

“Tony came looking for his cousin,” Tim replied, pointing at the portal. The voices were raised and heated. “I don’t think they’re very happy with each other.”

“Tony, who? Why didn’t he just come in — oh, hold on, you mean that chauvinistic Gryffindor from Duelling?”

Tim was both surprised and unsurprised that Kate knew what chauvinism was at her age. “That’s the one. His cousin’s in seventh year — Crispian Paddington.” On cue, the portal opened and Crispian strode in with his face twisted in a sneer, and Tim and Kate heard Tony shouting from the corridor, “Yeah, go tell Clive, see if I care!” A few Slytherins looked up curiously as the portal closed.

Tim and Kate exchanged glances, then both shrugged.

“You ready to go?” asked Tim.

“Yeah. I bet I could give the other girls packing tips, if they’d let me,” Kate scoffed. “I mean, how does one person’s belongings  _ increase _ when there aren’t any shops at boarding school?”

Tim shrugged again. 

“So you haven’t changed your mind about going home, McGee?”

Tim shook his head.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Tim worried his lip. “Let’s just say my father and I don’t see eye-to-eye.”

“Ah,” said Kate sympathetically.

~.~+~.~   
  


_ Divination Turret. _

“Change of plans, Jethro. I’m staying, you’re staying.”

“Anthony, what changed?”

Tony sneered. “Crispian says that we can’t have a  _ Muggleborn _ seen at Paddington House, not in this political climate.”

Jethro looked down at his hands and turned away. Tony scowled. “No way, Jethro. I’m not leaving you alone. As far as I’m concerned, my cousin can stuff his ideas about ‘proper appearances’ where the sun don’t shine.”

At that, Jethro cracked a smile.

“On the bright side,” Ducky added, “Though Luna says she’ll be going home to keep her father company, Abby has also decided to stay. She seems to think that the Heir will find the lull of the holidays the perfect time to attack.”

“That’s a bright side?” said Tony in mock horror.

At the same time, Jethro grunted in disagreement. “Heir probably won’t attack. No one around to see it, so what’s the point?”

~.~+~.~

_ Beginning of Christmas Holidays, 1992. _

The carriages were gone, and the castle felt empty. Tim wandered the halls aimlessly, thinking that maybe he would head to the library, when he rounded a corner and ran into Kate’s friend, Abby Scuito.

“Oh, hey! You’re McGee, right?”

“Tim. Nice to meet you —” Abby grabbed his hand and shook it enthusiastically, cutting him off.

“Abby, Abby Scuito! You know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Abby babbled as they walked. “That whole ‘blood-guard’ thing you’ve got going with Kate? I’m doing it too, now! Though I never told Kate, huh. That’s kind of rude of me. She must be wondering why I’m spending less time with her all of a sudden. Did she go home?”

Tim blinked against the flood of words. “Yeah, she left, and — ‘blood-guard’?”

“Yeah! Since we’re both using our pure  _ blood _ to  _ guard _ a friend. Only, thing is, I can’t find my Gibbs!” She stomped her foot, frustrated. “I checked the Hufflepuff Basement,  _ and  _ Gryffindor Tower,  _ and  _ the clock tower,  _ and  _ the Divination Tower, but I can’t find him and now I’m getting worried! Oh my gosh, what if the monster got him? No one would ever know —”

“Abby. Abby! Calm down!” Tim gripped her shoulders reassuringly. “I’m sure he’s alright — wait, did you say Gibbs?”

Abby stopped bouncing. “You know Gibbs?”

“We met at the Duelling Club,” said Tim. “He taught Kate the Disarming Charm. I learned from Tony Paddington.”

Abby squealed in delight. “You know  _ both _ Tony and Gibbs! That’s fantastic! Hey, if you don’t have anything to do, you should come find them with me. I wonder where they could be?”

~.~+~.~

_ Hagrid’s Hut, Hogwarts Grounds. _

“I can’t believe we’re doing this. This is not a good idea.”

“And yet you’re still following me, Boss!”

“This is borderline obsession, DiNozzo.”

The two boys picked their way down the trail to the Forbidden Forest, where they had seen the massive nest of scraggly hair belonging to the towering groundskeeper exit the trees after herding the Hogwarts thestrals back to their home. Tony practically bounced into the Forest with excitement, while Jethro followed more sedately. Not more than a few minutes’ walk in, they came upon — 

“Ooh, a baby! Hi there!” Tony crooned to the little thestral. It cocked its head curiously and gave a bird-like squawk. Jethro kept one eye on Tony, who held his hand out for the thestral to sniff (?), and one eye on the larger thestrals lurking around the edges of the clearing.

“Jethro! C’mere, you wanna feed her?”

_ Her? _ As far as Jethro could tell, they all looked the same. “Feed…  _ her _ … what?”

Tony reached into his bag and pulled out — 

“DiNozzo, do I want to know where you got a strip of raw meat from?”

Tony pouted. “It’s nothing  _ bad _ , Jeth. I just asked the house elves what thestrals eat when I passed through the kitchen, and they gave me some. Here, girl…” He tossed the meat so that it landed between the thestral’s front hooves. It sniffed at it, then scooped it up, swallowed it down, and churred happily, coming closer and nosing around for more. Tony held out another piece, and the thestral delicately plucked it from his hand. “See, Jethro? Perfectly safe. Come try!” He cooed to the thestral. “You’re so beautiful, hmm? I think I’ll call you Bella.”

Seeing as Tony still had all his fingers (but possibly not all of his marbles), Jethro reluctantly gave in and warily held out a piece of meat to the newly-christened Bella the Baby Thestral.

“HEY! What do you two think yer doin’!?”

Tony and Jethro jumped and turned. Bella skittered away, startled. 

Rubeus Hagrid, towering groundskeeper of Hogwarts, glared down at them over his bushy beard. 

“Feeding thestrals, sir!” Tony said, though the slight quaver in his voice belied his otherwise cheerful, innocent tone.

“Paddington has an… interest in thestrals,” Gibbs added mildly.

“An’ you are?”

“Jethro Gibbs, sir. This is Tony Paddington.”

Hagrid eyed their badges. “You third years?” They nodded. “Care o’ Magical Creatures?” Another nod. Hagrid ran a hand through his hair. “Well, far be it fer me ter deny anyone who’s interested in creatures… I’ll chat wi’ Professor Kettleburn, maybe you kin come down here an’ help me take care o’ them, but I don’t want ter see you enter the Forbidden Forest again without tellin’ me, understand?” Again, they nodded. “Well, it’s gettin’ dark. You two should head back up ter the castle. Come back tomorrow.”

“Bye, Bella!” Tony called, waving, at the baby thestral as they left. Bella chirruped, and Hagrid gave them a strange look but let them go. 

On the hike back up to the castle, Tony suddenly lit up. “Jethro! You know who would love to see the thestrals? Abby! She likes all that dark stuff, doesn’t she? Can we bring her tomorrow?”

Jethro shook his head. “Notta good idea, DiNozzo. Doubt she could  _ see _ them.”

“Ah, good point…”

~.~+~.~

_ That night. Great Hall. _

Professor Dumbledore had again reconfigured the tables in the Great Hall to have a single large table around which the faculty and the handful of students, fewer even than the prior year, sat. Jethro nudged Tony. “Look. Not the only Muggleborn staying.”

“It’s  _ Granger _ , she and Potter and Weasley are inseparable _. _ ”

“Like you two?” asked Abby, plopping down on Jethro’s other side. “I brought a friend!”

Tim McGee waved meekly. “Hi.”

“Heya, McGee!” said Tony cheerfully. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here. Didn’t wanna spend Christmas with the family?”

McGee bit his lip and shook his head. Jethro and Tony exchanged sympathetic glances. “Never mind, we get it,” Tony said after an awkward pause. “So… how’s your first year going? What’s it like sharing a dorm with Ferret-Face over there?” He jerked his chin at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, sitting at the far side of the table. 

“Ah, um… we don’t? He’s a second-year?” McGee stuttered.

Jethro cuffed Tony over the head. Now was not the time to make a jab at McGee’s House. “You ever end up getting that Disarming Charm, McGee?” he asked instead. The younger boy shook his head. “We can practice over the holidays, if ya want.”

McGee looked pleasantly surprised. “O-oh, really? I mean, that would be great! Thanks!”

~.~+~.~

_ Christmas Day, 1992. Slytherin Common Room. _

As Tim found out, Tony and Gibbs were not, in fact, as inseparable as Abby claimed. Over the past few days, it seemed that when Gibbs invited Tim to practice Duelling spells, half the time Tony would cheerily wave to them and Abby before skipping off across the grounds.

The day that Tim finally Disarmed Gibbs, he asked out loud where Tony kept going. Abby’s head popped up from her book, curious.

“Hagrid’s hut,” came Gibbs’ reply as he picked himself up. “He’s obsessed with thestrals.” 

“What’s a thestral?” asked Abby.

Gibbs quirked a half-smile. “You’re the Ravenclaw. Figure it out.”

“You bet I will!”

They worked on speed for the rest of the day, as Gibbs quickly demonstrated that while it was all well and good that Tim could Disarm people now, his opponents weren’t going to “stand there twiddling their thumbs, McGee!” 

Tim was secretly delighted by how Gibbs, Tony, and Abby had welcomed him into their little group. Even if Gibbs was a little gruff and cold at times and even if Tony called him weird nicknames and teased him relentlessly, it was nice, having friends to sit with at the feast table who would include him in their conversations and jokes.

He was reading a book by the Slytherin common room fireplace, feeling pleasantly warm and stuffed from the Christmas feast, when Malfoy and his goons came through the portal. Tim glanced up briefly before returning to his book, but his gaze snagged on Crabbe and Goyle. Something about them seemed off. Casually, Tim adjusted his position so that he could observe the three second-years over the top of his book.

Crabbe and Goyle were normally pretty stupid, but Tim thought that they were either being even more gormless than usual, or they were hiding something. When Crabbe’s hair started changing color and Goyle made the lamest of excuses before they both bolted for the portal wall, Tim hesitated only for a second before following, creeping from pillar to pillar, following the pair up and out of the dungeons.

“Hey, whatcha doing?”

Tim almost screamed. Almost.

“Tony, don’t  _ do _ that!” he hissed back instead.

Tony peered cautiously around the pillar. “You’re following Potter and Weasley? Why?”

“ _ Potter? _ ” Tim followed Tony’s gaze, and sure enough, it was Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. “What — I was following Crabbe and Goyle!”

Tony’s eyebrows rose. “You’re not pulling my leg, are you, McStalker?”

“No, Tony, I swear! I thought Crabbe and Goyle were acting weird, so I followed them when they left, and they were  _ right there —” _

“Alright, alright, calm down, I believe you!” Tony rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We could ask Ducky once he gets back —”

“Who?”

“Donald Mallard, fifth-year Ravenclaw… Or I guess we could ask Abby to hit the library…”

“She’s already planning to. Gibbs said something about thestrals —”

Tony’s eyes lit up. “Thestrals?”

Tim had a sudden sinking feeling that he had made a big mistake with his word choice.


	11. When They Started Their Own Investigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the team as we know it begins to come together.

_ January 1993. Clock Tower Landing. _

When Tim began researching ways to change one’s appearance, he found out about Polyjuice Potion. When Tony told him that Hermione Granger was reportedly in the Hospital Wing for reasons undisclosed, he began getting suspicious.

When he told Kate after she returned, she promptly confirmed his suspicions.

“I haven’t visited Myrtle very much — she’s the ghost in the out-of-order girls bathroom — but the last few times I did, someone had left a cauldron in one of the stalls. Myrtle told me that there were three  _ other _ students visiting her bathroom for over a month, but she didn’t know what they were brewing and she said they cleaned it all out.”

Abby, upon hearing from Kate, disappeared into the bathroom (“Luna, do  _ not _ let Gibbs out of your sight!”) and returned with a bag full of scraps.

“Some of them are a bit withered, but I think I can identify them,” she said with a gleam in her eye. “I’ll let you know when I’ve got something.” 

A few days of manic research later, and —

“What d’you got, Abbs?”

“Gibbs, how did you know I found something?”

Gibbs just smiled enigmatically. 

“Well, you’re right, I have something. Look! This is a knotgrass leaf, these are the wings off some lacewing flies, this stem is from a fluxweed plant, and I’ve got a shred here that I’m  _ almost _ one hundred percent certain is boomslang skin.”

“Is all that supposed to mean something to me, Abby?” 

Kate glared at Tony’s lazy demeanor. “Why am I here, Abby?”

“We’re solving a mystery, that’s why!”

“Abby, it’s hardly a mystery —” protested McGee.

“McGee, did you know for  _ certain _ that Potter, Weasley, and Granger were brewing Polyjuice Potion? No, you couldn’t have, unless you had evidence! Solid proof!” She shook her bag of scraps. “These are ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion!”

Tony sat up straighter at that. “So Potter and Weasley were impersonating Crabbe and Goyle?” He made a face. “Why would  _ anyone _ want to impersonate those morons?”

Tim thought back to the conversation he’d overheard. “I think… I think they wanted to know if Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin.”

“And is he?” asked Abby.

Kate scoffed. “No way. Someone with an ego like his wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret.”

“Well, then who would it be?” Tim muttered half to himself. “I don’t think they would keep it a secret if they were a Slytherin, but no one’s said anything.”

“Good question, McGee. Why don’t ya try and find out?” Tim jerked around to meet Gibbs’ stare. “Take Kate with you.”

“Wha — why am I being dragged into this?”

“Cuz McProtective here isn’t gonna let you out of his sight anyway, Kate!” chimed Tony. “Isn’t that right, Abby?”

“You better not, mister!”

“Ask around in Slytherin, see who we need to watch out for,” said Gibbs. “Abby —”

“Nuh-uh, Gibbs. I’m not leaving you.”

A hint of fond exasperation. “Wasn’t asking you to. That was good work with the Polyjuice. Can you and Luna research Slytherin’s monster? We’ll keep you updated as we go.” Abby pouted but reluctantly agreed. “You two can switch off on protection duty with Tony.” Abby brightened at that.

“What, am I doing something, Boss?”

Gibbs gave him a look that clearly communicated  _ Well yeah, DiNozzo, did you think I’d let you sit on your ass? _ “Keep an eye on Potter and his friends. They’re up to something.”

“And if last year was any indication, they’re going to get themselves in trouble doing their own investigation. On it, Boss.”

“Last year?” asked Kate. Tony grinned, and Tim groaned. “More storytime…”

~.~+~.~

The clock tower landing felt a lot cozier these days.

Somehow, in between McGee scoping out the Slytherins (the fact that Malfoy was number one on the “people to avoid” list spoke a lot about his character, though Tim drew up a “people Kate specifically should avoid” list whose #1 slot was filled by Adelaide Murton), Kate’s investigation into a certain diary (“Myrtle said Ginny Weasley threw it in her toilet and Harry Potter took it out”), and Abby, Luna, Ducky and even Tony spending their off-hours (i.e. not in class and not watching Gibbs) researching “Things that can Petrify people” in the library, and everyone reporting to Gibbs in the clock tower (where Tony and Abby had practically forced him to stay)...

Somehow, these individual paths intertwined like fibers in a rope, and Kate and McGee found themselves solidly integrated into the group.

_ Valentine’s Day, 1993. Clock Tower Landing. Evening. _

“Alright, report!” barked Gibbs.

Abby jumped in first. “There aren’t very many things that can Petrify people, so Luna and Ducky and I have been looking into things that can kill you that have Petrification as a side effect if they fail.”

“And?” asked Gibbs expectantly.

Abby slumped. “There aren’t many things, Gibbs. Maybe a cockatrice, but that has to use sound and we haven’t heard anything… a basilisk is possible but they’re huge snakes, there’s no way to hide one… Gorgons are extinct… and there was this weird Chinese thing but unless someone brought it in as some sort of messed-up pet, I don’t see any way for it to end up in the school…”

“My father might have some ideas,” added Luna. “We love searching for magical creatures together. I’ve already written to him.”

Gibbs nodded. “Kate? McGee? What d’you got?”

McGee shook his head, and Kate said, “Nothing new, Gibbs. We don’t think the Heir of Slytherin is actually in Slytherin. Maybe he or she is hiding in another House.”

“I have something!” called Tony as he jogged in. “Sorry I’m late, boss. Harry Potter just got the most  _ embarrassing _ singing valentine, you should have seen his face, it was  _ priceless— _ ”

Gibbs shifted his weight and huffed pointedly. Tony grinned. “Ah, anyway, the point is that Potter got knocked over by one of Lockhart’s Cupid dwarves, and the diary fell out of his bag. I got a good look at it.”

Everyone leaned in. 

“Any of you ever heard of a ‘T.M. Riddle’?”

Everyone took a moment to think, then collectively gave a negative response.

“Well, other than that name on the inside cover, it’s a plain black leather book, and what pages I could see were blank.”

“Alright, Kate and Tim, start looking into Riddle. See if there’s a connection to the Chamber of Secrets — try the incident fifty years ago, since he —”

“Or she,” interrupted Kate.

“Or she,” Gibbs conceded, “Likely isn’t a student now, else the diary wouldn’t have been in the bathroom. Keep an eye on Ginny Weasley in class if you can. That goes for you too, Abby, Luna.”

“Aye aye, Gibbs!” chirped Abby.

“Tony, keep on what you’ve been doing.”

“You got it, boss.”

The huddle broke. Kate and McGee exchanged glances, then approached the bench where Tony and Gibbs sat side-by-side. “Gibbs? Tony?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“We know you’ve been practicing Duelling on your own since the club was shut down,” said McGee.

“We want you to teach us,” said Kate. “If you’re willing, of course,” she hastily added. “Some defensive spells, just in case.”

“Sure,” said Gibbs, glancing up briefly from his Charms essay. “Pick a day, we’ll meet on the grounds.”

“We’ve been working on the Shield Charm, so you can join us on that, or we can show you some jinxes,” added Tony. 

“Read a bit, think about it,” finished Gibbs. “Let us know.”

~.~+~.~

In spite of their preparation, it wasn’t enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to anyone who left a comment and/or kudos -- I'm glad you liked it! Also, not exactly sure how the chapter-update notifications work, but I went back and changed the titles of the first five chapters, to signify different "years" or "books." The impetus for this? I just finished the first chapter related to Prisoner of Azkaban, and I wanted to switch up the chapter titles -- so, different title styles for each book. Apologies if AO3 sends you five "chapter update" emails as a result.
> 
> Until next time, my friends!


	12. When Tony Became Team Leader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony leads an interrogation, Abby makes a discovery, and Kate and McGee act as the intimidating back-up.

_May 1993. Quidditch Pitch._

“This match has been canceled!” said Professor McGonagall in a magically amplified voice. “All are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!”

Tony exchanged worried glances with McGee, Kate, Luna and Ducky as they began descending from the stands to the ground. “Luna? Where’s Abby?”

“She had something to tell Gibbs. They’re meeting in the library before the match.”

“If Abby’s with Gibbs, they’ll be fine, right?” McGee fretted.

“Of course they’ll be fine, McGee, isn’t that why you’re always following me around?” said Kate in a tone that didn’t quite conceal her own worry. “Tell him Abby and Gibbs are fine, Tony.”

Tony stopped walking, a sudden fear seizing his heart and wrenching his gut when he saw Professor McGonagall’s gaze stop directly on him. Kate elbowed him, and frowned when he barely reacted. “Tony?”

“I don’t know, Kate,” he said quietly. “You guys go on ahead. McGee —” He suddenly fixed the first-year with an intense, almost Gibbs-like stare. “ _Do not_ let Kate out of your sight. Got it?” McGee nodded, gulping. “Go. All of you.”

“But Tony, what about Abby?” Kate pressed.

“Go back to your common rooms!” Tony ordered them, then strode toward the tall figure of Professor McGonagall. The lines on her face deepened when she frowned and nodded at him. “Paddington, there you are. You should come too.”

“Come where?” asked Ron Weasley, who was standing nervously nearby with Harry Potter.

Professor McGonagall simply beckoned for them to follow. Tony’s stomach twisted into a knot when their path turned toward the Hospital Wing. Professor McGonagall pulled open the doors, and Tony heard a shrill cry, saw a black blur rushing toward him, and barely had time to brace himself before Abby flung herself into his arms.

“TONY! Tony, it’s Gibbs!” she wailed. “I failed him!”

“Hermione!” Potter and Weasley brushed past Tony, whose eyes were fixed on the bed next to the frozen Hermione Granger. As if in a trance, Tony stepped forward, Abby clinging to his arm. His breath caught in his throat. “No.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Tony, I’m sorry,” Abby sobbed. Tony sat down hard on the chair next to the bed and gently pulled Abby into his lap, hugging her close as she cried.

 _Jethro went down fighting_ , Tony thought distantly. It was obvious in the positioning of Gibbs’ bent-and-ready limbs, the hand that had clearly been gripping a wand. And of course, that glare, that icy glare that may well have Petrified the attacker given a chance. 

It was the glare that shocked Tony back into himself. He could almost feel the ghost of a head-slap and hear his friend’s voice: _You done looking, DiNozzo? Good! Now get off your ass and go find the sonuvabitch that did this!_

“On it, Boss,” Tony murmured. 

Abby hiccuped and pulled back enough to look at him. Her tears drew black trails of mascara down her cheeks. “Tony?”

“It’s not your fault, Abby,” he said, voice growing stronger as his resolve hardened within him. He took a deep breath. “I need to know everything that happened to you this morning.”

~.~+~.~

_That same day. Clock Tower Landing. Noon._

Tony paced back and forth as the team trickled in. As soon as he had left the Hospital Wing, he had sent Gibbs’ owl Fornell with notes to each common room, calling an emergency meeting for what he was coming to think of as their “team.”

After delivering the last note, Tony had found Fornell waiting for him in the clock tower, clicking his beak expectantly. Even the owl’s baleful glare reflected Tony’s own heavy sense of responsibility, as if he were saying, _Well? Where’s Gibbs? What’re you gonna do, DiNozzo?_

Once everyone — McGee, Kate, Abby, Luna, and Ducky — was present and seated, Tony cleared his throat.

“Thanks for giving up your lunchtimes,” he began. “You’ve probably already heard from the rumors, but here’s what’s really happened. Two students were found Petrified in the library.” Abby sniffled, and Luna put an arm around her shoulders. Tony took a fortifying breath. “One was Hermione Granger, a second-year Gryffindor. The other was Gibbs.”

Ducky placed a quivering hand on McGee’s shoulder. Kate clenched her jaw and twisted her fingers together.

“We can’t lose our heads now that Gibbs is… out of commission,” continued Tony, clenching his own hands in fists behind his back. “We’ve got to find who did this. I need to know if you’re still in.”

“I’m in,” Abby declared without hesitation. “Luna?” 

Luna nodded solemnly. “For my friends.”

“I’m in, too,” said Kate fiercely. “Tim —”

“Of course.”

“Jethro is a dear friend,” said Ducky with a steely glint in his eye. “Whatever I can do.”

Tony nodded. “Good. Then, to start… Abby. I need you to tell everyone what you told me yesterday.”

Abby sniffled again. Tony knelt down to her level. “Abby. We talked about this. It’s not your fault, and Gibbs needs you and your Ravenclaw brain to stay focused. Can you do that for me?”

Another sniffle, then a nod. Tony placed a hand on her shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready.”

A few moments. Abby nodded. “Okay.”

“Two days ago, I was researching in the library about Slytherin’s monster. I kept coming back to basilisks and cockatrices — none of the other creatures that can Petrify are very possible because they’re either myths or foreign, so I wanted another look. I was thinking and thinking about how someone could smuggle a basilisk or a cockatrice into the school, and I suddenly thought of Mrs. Norris, how she was found outside a bathroom, and I had an idea. I double-checked, and I think it’s possible.”

Everyone leaned forward. 

“There’s a basilisk in the school, and it’s moving through the pipes.”

“Didn’t you say that basilisks are giant snakes?” asked McGee skeptically.

Abby gave him a watery smile. “Madam Pince probably thinks I’m crazy now, because I asked her for any building blueprints or specifications she had for Hogwarts. I compared the pipelines to basilisk sizes. It’s possible.” She wrinkled her nose. “Hogwarts has some _really_ big pipes, you know? It’s kind of nasty.”

“ _Abby_ ,” Tony said.

“Right, right… anyway, it was late by the time I’d figured it out, so on my way back to Ravenclaw Tower I wrote a note to Gibbs saying that he should meet me in the library before the match because I had something to show him. I gave it to some Hufflepuff passing by — I think he said his name was Palmer? Jimmy Palmer, or something — and then I went back to my dorm.

“I was up pretty late, though, because I had to finish a Potions essay, and then I overslept a little the next morning, so I was running late to the library.” Abby’s lip trembled. “By the time I got there, it was too late.” She sniffled, then started sobbing quietly. Luna wrapped her in a hug.

“Abby was the one who told Professor McGonagall,” Tony added quietly, squeezing her shoulder. “Good work, Abbs.”

Abby just nodded, and Tony stood back up.

“Alright, so we know the _how_ ,” he said. “Now we just need the _who_. We have a name: T.M. Riddle. We have the diary the name came from, which was found in the bathroom next to Mrs. Norris’s Petrification.”

“And Potter and his friends were in that bathroom over Christmas,” Kate added. “People think Potter’s the Heir of Slytherin.”

“Not anymore, certainly,” interjected Ducky. “Not now that Granger has been Petrified.”

“What about Ginny Weasley? Wasn’t she the one who left the diary there in the first place?” McGee ventured.

“That’s a good point.” Tony paced a few steps, thinking. “New plan. Abby, Luna, keep researching. The basilisk is still a theory — look for more evidence, and see if there are any defenses against basilisks. Ducky, I know you’re busy with O.W.Ls, but if you could help, that would be great. McGee —” He paused and looked McGee in the eyes. “Tim. Kate does not go _anywhere_ without you.”

“Even the bathroom?” said Kate.

“ _Especially_ the bathroom,” Abby chipped in. “The pipes are the biggest in the bathrooms.”

“The two of you, find out who T.M. Riddle is. See if he’s related to the Chamber — work from the angle of the last Chamber incident. You’re right, the Heir of Slytherin was probably a Slytherin, and if our Heir is related to the Heir from fifty years ago, well, maybe you can find something. But above all, _stay safe_. Got me?”

McGee nodded. “On it, boss — I mean, Tony.”

“You four first years, keep an eye on Ginny any time you share a class. I don’t think she’ll do anything during class even if she _is_ involved, but better safe than sorry.”

“What about you, Tony?” asked Kate.

“I’ll take the Gryffindor side of things outside of class.” Tony’s eyes were stormy and shuttered. “Don’t worry about me.”

~.~+~.~

_That evening. Gryffindor Tower_.

Tony slipped down the stairs to the second-year boys’ dormitory and hovered outside the door, hearing Potter and Weasley’s voices coming from inside and growing louder as the boys approached the door. Pressing himself to the wall, Tony held his breath as the dormitory door opened and fell closed seemingly on its own. _Invisibility Cloak_ , he thought.

Quieting his breaths, he trailed the invisible second-years down to the common room and out the portrait, ears pricked for the slightest tap and scuff of shoes and fabric on the stone floor. They were headed for the main entrance, Tony realized. If he got caught outside, forget following them, he’d have detention for the rest of the year. Scowling, Tony turned and began the trek back to Gryffindor Tower, only to run into — 

“Paddington, isn’t it?” Professor Snape said softly. “What, might I ask, are you doing out after curfew?”

Tony adopted an expression that was a combination of contrition, sheepishness, and sorrow. “I’m sorry, professor, it’s just — I couldn’t stop thinking about Gibbs… I just… I wanted to see him.” He rubbed his neck ruefully. “I know it’s irrational, sir, there’s nothing I can do, but I just…”

Snape’s forbidding glare softened fractionally. “Students are not permitted to go anywhere without a staff escort. If I catch you again, it’ll be detention and points from Gryffindor.” Tony nodded, not meeting Snape’s eyes, and the professor gave a soft huff. “Very well. Come along, Paddington.”

Well, a trip to visit Gibbs wasn’t in the books for tonight, but Tony wasn’t complaining. Sitting at Gibbs’ bedside, he could imagine his friend’s voice: _Well, Tony?_

“Hey Jethro,” Tony murmured. “I’ve got everyone on the case. We won’t stop until we get to the bottom of this.”

_Remember, Kate’s the most vulnerable. Keep her safe._

“You got it, boss.” Tony sighed. “How do you do this leadership thing, huh?”

_Talent and skill, DiNozzo. And you’ve got both._

Tony cocked his head slightly. “I must be going crazy already. You, giving a compliment?””

_Don’t get used to it. Shoo._

“That’s more like it.” Tony stood, following Snape back to Gryffindor Tower with his mind churning. 

Why, exactly, were Potter and Weasley going out on the grounds, at night, under the Invisibility Cloak? There weren’t very many possible destinations, and one stood out immediately. Tony’s frequent visits to Hagrid and the thestrals had gained him the knowledge that the groundskeeper had a soft spot for Harry Potter. 

“As you would say, Jethro,” Tony muttered to himself as he climbed the stairs to his dorm, “No such thing as coincidence.”

By noon the next day, the school was abuzz: Dumbledore had been sacked, Hagrid had been arrested, and yes, it’s true, two more students were Petrified.

Tony spent the morning with Kate and McGee out on the grounds, practicing the Shield Charm. Could it stop a basilisk? Probably not. Could it stop a smarmy second-year ferret-faced Slytherin whose mouth wouldn’t stop running about his father? Probably yes. When lunchtime rolled around, Tony holstered his wand. “Kate, McGee, with me.”

The two Slytherins fell into step behind him. “Where are we going?” asked Kate, ignoring the curious glances directed at the trio.

“Got some questions, and you two are the intimidating back-up.” Tony cocked an eyebrow at McGee. “Well, in theory.”

“Hey, I can do a Full-Body Bind.”

“Half-body might be more useful.”

“I can do that too!”

Tony stopped them in a corridor. “We wait here.”

“For _who_?” asked Kate, exasperated.

“Harry Potter and Ron Weasley,” said Tony, leaning on a wall. “And before you ask, I’m pretty sure they’ll be coming this way. They spent the morning in Gryffindor Tower, and this is the quickest way to the Great Hall.”

“I’m not sure whether it’s creepy or impressive that you know where they’ve been,” said McGee.

“Let’s go with impressive. Heads up!” Tony strode to the center of the corridor and planted his feet. Exchanging glances, Kate and McGee flanked him, the three facing the pair of Gryffindors who had just entered the hallway. Ron turned to leave the way they came, and Tony’s wand was out and pointed in half a second. “ _Protego!_ ” A glimmering white shield blocked the passageway. Potter and Weasley slowly turned around as Tony holstered his wand, looking satisfied.

“What do you want, Paddington?” asked Potter.

“So defensive, Potter,” Tony drawled. “I’m just here to talk. McGee?”

McGee drew his wand. “ _Muffliato._ ” A heavy stuffiness descended on the corridor. 

Potter and Weasley drew their wands. “What did you do, snake?” Weasley hissed.

“Hey!” Kate snapped, pointing her own wand. “You watch your mouth!”

“Make me!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Tony waved his hands placatingly. “Kate, McGee, wands _down_. I did not teach you jinxes so that you could jinx other students.”

Potter had lowered his wand as well, but Weasley still had his up. “C’mon, Ron.”

“Since when do you associate with Slytherins, huh?” said Weasley suspiciously, unmoving.

“Since McGee came equipped with a big brain and a _muffling spell_ , courtesy of our dear Potions professor,” Tony emphasized, “And Kate’s a crack shot at the Jelly-Legs Jinx. They’re my friends, Weasley, so _lower your wand_.”

Reluctantly, Weasley did so.

“What do you want?” repeated Harry. 

Tony dropped his casual facade. “We know you’re investigating the Chamber of Secrets. What do you know?”

Potter and Weasley exchanged glances. Tony pressed forward. “My best friend is Petrified, Harry. Same as yours. _What do you know_?”

Potter hesitated, then said, “Not much.”

“Start with the diary, then.”

A suspicious look crossed his face. “How do you know about that?”

“Saw it on Valentine’s Day during the dwarf incident. Kate’s friends with Moaning Myrtle—”

“It was a favor to her,” Kate muttered.

“Myrtle said it was in her bathroom and _you_ picked it up.”

Slowly, Potter nodded. Haltingly, he explained, “It had some sort of — memory magic, or something. It showed me the last time the Chamber was opened. The… the culprit was expelled.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Could it be the same culprit today as last time?”

“No!” the two boys all but shouted. Tony resisted the urge to raise the other eyebrow.

“Anything else?”

Potter shook his head. “The diary was stolen from my dorm, the day before Herm — the day before the match.”

Now the other eyebrow did join the first. “A Gryffindor?”

“It’s the only possibility,” grumbled Weasley. “Now can you let us go?”

Tony smirked and pointed at the passageway behind the boys, which was clearly _Protego-_ free. “Shield Charm’s only temporary, you know.” Weasley glared, Potter looked suspicious, and the two beat a hasty retreat.

McGee lifted the Muffling Charm. “That went well?”

Kate snorted. “They’re hiding something.”

“More than just a little something. Several somethings,” Tony agreed. “I’ll just have to keep digging.”

“We could help,” said Kate.

“No. You two stay on T.M. Riddle. Books don’t just _end up_ as magical objects. Find out who he is and what he could have done to his diary.”

“Got it, Tony!”

As they headed for the Great Hall, Tony’s mind whirled. One question stood out: _Why did Ginny Weasley steal back the diary?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy September, everyone! Hope you enjoyed this little Hiatus-esque twist to the Harry Potter story... Coming up next: the thestrals return!


	13. When the Thestrals Saved the Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony gathers intel, the thestrals kick ass, and we deviate significantly from canon for the first (but certainly not the last) time.

_ May 1993, two weeks later. Great Hall. Dinnertime. _

Tony lingered by the great doors of the Hall, ignoring the curious glances of the third-year Gryffindors he had just entered with. They were fortunate enough to have been the first escorted to the Hall from their afternoon classes, and Tony wanted to hear from his friends. With the new curfew and staff-escort rules in place, meetings in the clock tower were now impossible, and Tony would rather avoid visiting other House tables — their friendships weren’t secret, but they weren’t advertised either, and Tony himself already faced an additional level of scrutiny (pity) by his fellow Gryffindors who knew well his close friendship with Gibbs.

The first to pass by was a group of fifth-year Ravenclaws. Ducky caught Tony’s eye and shook his head. Nothing new.

Tony pressed back as a large, multi-year group of Slytherins entered. He spotted Kate, who elbowed McGee. The two drew close.

“Still don’t know who T.M. Riddle is,” McGee muttered.

“I have something else,” said Kate. “I talked to Myrtle again. Tony, she’s the student who was killed fifty years ago. She said, and I quote, ‘I saw a big pair of yellow eyes. And then… I died.’”

Tony hissed in dismay. “Sounds like a basilisk. Good work, you two. Keep on it.”

It was a while before a final class of first-year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were shepherded through the door by Professor Flitwick. Tony’s gaze flicked to Ginny, who looked around furtively and made a beeline for Harry Potter, already seated at the Gryffindor table. She was  _ so definitely _ hiding something, but what?

Tony refocused his attention when Luna and Abby trotted over together.

“It’s a basilisk,” he said without preamble, and explained about Moaning Myrtle. Luna and Abby exchanged glances.

“The cry of a rooster is fatal to a basilisk,” said Luna thoughtfully.

Abby leaned in. “I remember I saw Hagrid holding a dead rooster. Someone’s been killing our best defense.”

“Great. I don’t suppose McGonagall could Transfigure some more roosters?” Tony ran a hand through his hair. “Good work, Luna, Abby. Go eat.”

At the Gryffindor table, Tony stole a glance at Potter and Weasley, who were talking in low voices with their heads bent together. Ginny Weasley was nowhere in sight, but Tony was  _ sure _ her brother and Potter were also hiding something, and he had a suspicion that it had to do with Hagrid. 

Stabbing a sausage a little harder than was necessary, Tony debated whether it was worth going to McGonagall now. He ran through the evidence in his head: Petrification, Myrtle, and the roosters all supported the basilisk theory, but where did T.M. Riddle and the diary tie in? And  _ where _ exactly was the Chamber anyway? The professors couldn’t very well search for the basilisk without knowing where to begin their search. Maybe Myrtle’s bathroom? Tony shook his head to himself. No, too circumstantial to hold up. The basilisk could have popped out of the pipes, but there was no proof yet that the Chamber’s entrance was  _ there _ . Not to mention that the unidentified Heir of Slytherin was still on the loose.

Still, it was probably worth putting the professors on alert for a giant death snake.

~.~+~.~

_ That night. Aragog’s Nest, Forbidden Forest. _

As the acromantulas crept closer, Harry and Ron huddled together with Aragog’s raspy, malicious chuckle ringing in their ears. Ron sobbed. “We’re dead, Harry, we’re so dead, aren’t we?”

Harry drew his wand, but his hand shook. “We can’t give up, Ron!”

“Giant spiders, Harry!” Ron shrieked and shot off red sparks at a leg that reached toward him. “We should have brought that Paddington bloke with us.”

“So he could get eaten too?  _ Flipendo! _ ” A spider tumbled back.

“He’s good at Duelling, isn’t he? At least it would be payback for  _ interrogating _ us!” Ron shot more sparks, while Harry fired another Knockback Jinx. Angered, the spiders closed in, and Harry braced himself. An acromantula opened its jaws wide, showing off fangs dripping in poison, and Harry closed his eyes.

The bite never came.

Instead there was a whoosh, several thwacks and thumps, and a strangled spider-cry. A voice said, “Sorry to disappoint, Ron. I appreciate the Duelling compliment, though!  _ Glacius! _ ”

Scratch that, the bite must have killed Harry on the spot, because he could have sworn that was Tony Paddington’s voice. The sudden rush of cold air felt very real though, and tentatively Harry cracked open his eyes and took in the bewildering sight of Paddington, sitting on what appeared to be empty space, firing more Freezing Charms at the spiders’ hairy limbs. Around them, invisible forces smashed into the acromantulas, knocking them off their feet and fending off spider fangs.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty!” called Paddington, noticing Harry staring at him. “Don’t just stand there, come on!”

“What?” squeaked Ron. Paddington rolled his eyes and whistled shrilly. 

Suddenly, Harry felt a presence scoop him up. But not like a pair of arms — more like how he would imagine a horse throwing him onto its back. Alarm shot through him when he saw he was sitting on nothing, despite the feel of angled bones and leathery skin under his hands.

“Hold on!” Paddington roared, and the invisible horse he rode reared up and kicked away a spider. “Orion, let’s fly!”

Harry couldn’t even begin to guess who “Orion” was, but he felt his steed bunch its muscles, and he instinctively threw himself forward to wrap his arms around a sturdy neck as the ground lurched and fell away beneath him in a great gust of wind. He could hear Ron screaming as they climbed up, out of the dark canopy of the Forbidden Forest and into the moonlit sky.

The experience was nothing like flying on a broom, the unfamiliarity of straining wings compounded by the fact that Harry couldn’t see  _ what _ exactly he was riding on. He was relieved when Paddington circled and led them down into a clearing in the Forest not far from Hagrid’s hut. Harry dismounted clumsily and stumbled over to Ron, who practically fell off his mount. For several moments they just breathed, heart rates gradually slowing as the adrenaline rush wore off.

Then Paddington stepped in front of them with a Gibbs-like expression on his face, and Harry’s anxiety spiked.

“What,” Paddington grit out, “did you think you were  _ doing!? _ ”

~.~+~.~

Tony was relieved to see that the thestral herd looked no worse for the wear after battling with the giant spiders. He stroked Orion, murmuring his thanks, and when Bella skipped up to her father and her favorite human, chirruping, Tony smiled and gave her a brief head rub before turning his attention to the two absolute  _ idiots _ he had just rescued. “ _ What _ did you think you were  _ doing!? _ Going defenseless into the Forbidden Forest at night — I thought you  _ weren’t  _ morons, but I guess I was wrong!”

“Well, what’s your excuse?” blustered Weasley, standing up shaky but defiant.

“I had an appointment with Professor Kettleburn to check on the thestrals,” Tony replied coolly. 

“Thestrals?” repeated Potter blankly.

Weasley’s face went white. “ _ Thestrals _ ? Harry, that’s a bad omen —”

“They saved you,” Tony snapped, cutting him off. He gestured at the herd, never mind that the other two boys couldn’t see it. “You’re lucky I decided to take a flight when Professor Kettleburn went to take care of his leg for a bit. You’re even luckier that the thestrals like me and came when I called. And you’re  _ damn _ lucky we got there in time to save your asses!”

Tony’s angry snarl echoed around the clearing. Some of the herd looked up in concern. Potter and Weasley looked appropriately cowed, and Tony took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Professor Kettleburn will be back any minute,” he said. “Please tell me you still have your Invisibility Cloak.”

“You know?” yelped Weasley, but Potter put his hand on his friend’s arm. “Gibbs saw last year, during the Norbert thing… We left it in Hagrid’s cabin, Tony.”

“Let’s get going, then.” Tony patted Bella’s nose one more time, then led the way along the path back to Hagrid’s hut. He held up a hand, signalling them to wait. “Professor Kettleburn might still be inside. If he is, I’ll slip the Cloak out that window. Got it?” At their nods, he entered.

Professor Kettleburn squinted at him from the half-light of an oil lamp. “That you, Paddington?”

“Yeah, Professor. How’s the leg?”

Professor Kettleburn had exactly one arm and half a leg remaining from his original four appendages, and lately he had been complaining to Tony that the prosthetic on the half-leg was causing him pain. Tony had brought him a lubricant on his last visit, which he was now smearing over his stump.

“Just fine, lad, just fine. Took me a bit to get the other half off is all.”

“Sorry, professor. I should have helped.”

Professor Kettleburn waved a hand airily. “Nonsense, the creatures come first. How are the thestrals?”

Tony grinned as he helped the professor fit his prosthetic back on. “Doing well. Bella’s getting so big! Rhia looks healthy, but it was hard for me to get close — Merripen’s very protective of his unborn colt.”

“Good, good,” grunted Professor Kettleburn as he hauled himself to his feet. Tony, having spotted a silver glimmer out of the corner of his eye, took the opportunity to shove the Invisibility Cloak out the window. Professor Kettleburn huffed, smoothing down his jacket. “You’re becoming a right thestral whisperer, Paddington. ‘Specially with Hagrid gone.” Tony dipped his head modestly, and Professor Kettleburn barked a laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. “Come, my apprentice! Back to the castle.”

Tony kept his ears pricked as they walked, reassured by the intermittent rustle of the Cloak over grass. He bid Professor Kettleburn farewell at the base of the stairs — “You should rest that leg, Professor” — and then he was alone.

”Potter?” he murmured.

“Right behind you.”

“Good. We’ll talk in the common room.”

Luckily, they managed not to run into any patrolling faculty, and soon they were safely through the portrait hole, seated on squashy armchairs by the fire. It was fairly late, and no one else was there. Tony leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

“So, seeing as I saved your butts twice tonight, I think you owe me an explanation,” he said.

Potter and Weasley exchanged glances, then Potter began, explaining that the memory from the diary had shown Hagrid being expelled as the culprit — “Which he wasn’t, of course” — and their subsequent visit to Hagrid, looking for answers.

“Hagrid didn’t know who the real Heir was,” said Potter. “But he had Aragog as a pet, and they blamed him.”

“Can you blame  _ them _ ?” muttered Weasley.

“Hagrid said Dumbledore cleared his name, but then Minister Fudge showed up last week…”

Tony hissed in distaste at the Minister of Magic’s name. 

Potter recounted witnessing the arrest and Hagrid’s last advice to “follow the spiders,” how they had seen a trail of spiders earlier today and gone out to the Forest, where Aragog had told them that the Chamber’s monster is the creature most feared by spiders — “They refused to even say its name” — and that the first Chamber victim was killed in a bathroom, and soon after Hagrid set Aragog free.

Tony mentally checked off Kate’s report on Myrtle and made a mental note to ask Abby and Luna whether spiders feared basilisks. He tapped his chin, thinking, settling these new pieces into the puzzle. “And T.M. Riddle?” At Potter and Weasley’s looks, he tsk-ed. “It’s written on the diary’s inside cover. You know who he is?”

“He got an award for Special Services to the school,” Weasley admitted reluctantly.

“But that’s all we know,” added Potter quickly.

Tony suspected they were still holding something back, but it was late, and they had classes tomorrow. He stood up and stretched, then fixed them with a stern glare.

“I’m not your mother, or even your brother,” he said. “I’d like to tell you not to pull another stupid stunt, but after the Sorcerer’s Stone last year and that fiasco tonight, I doubt you’re going to listen.” His tone softened fractionally. “Just —  _ think _ before you act, will you? Seriously. It’s okay to ask for help or tell an adult.”

“We told McGonagall last year and she didn’t believe us,” muttered Potter.

Tony conceded that point with a tilt of his head. “Then at least tell me, or one other person, so you have someone backing you up from the outside. Fair?”

Reluctantly Potter and Weasley nodded. As they stood up to leave, Tony called, “Next time you tell McGonagall, bring evidence! I know I will!”

~.~+~.~

Ron looked at Harry, wide-eyed. “You think he knows more than he’s telling us?”

“Ron, he didn’t tell  _ us  _ anything.” Harry’s eyes narrowed. “And he definitely does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We approach the end of Chamber of Secrets! Hope you all are enjoying the ride. A huge thank you to those of you who have commented and stuck with me thus far -- every time I read your feedback, it makes me smile. Until next time!


	14. When They Told the Professors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony does the responsible thing (what? Really?), Tim brings the cavalry, and Kate's relationship with Moaning Myrtle comes in handy yet again.

In another life, it would have been several days before Harry and Ron discovered the truth of the basilisk and entered the Chamber of Secrets with none of the staff any the wiser about Slytherin’s monster.

In this life, things took a turn the very next day…

~.~+~.~

_Afternoon._

Tony and the third-year Gryffindors were being led back to Gryffindor Tower by the Muggle Studies professor, Professor Burbage, when he caught a glimpse of Professor McGonagall striding down a corridor. Cautiously confirming that Professor Burbage was absorbed in a conversation, he let himself fall to the back of the group and, when no one was watching, turned and headed back.

Professor McGonagall eyed him suspiciously as he trotted up. “I don’t suppose you’re also breaking the staff-escort rules because you plan to go see your friend in the Hospital Wing.”

Tony blinked, bewildered. “Er, no, Professor. Why, someone else said that?”

She sighed. “Just Potter and Weasley, but never you mind. What do you need, Mr. Paddington?”

Reaching into his bag, Tony brought out the folded piece of parchment. During breakfast he had confirmed from Abby and Luna that spiders did indeed fear basilisks above all else, and with that last bit of information he had spent most of that morning’s History of Magic class writing down all his evidence (hey, take advantage of the time when you’ve got it.) “I have something to show you. It’s about the Chamber.”

Her gaze sharpened. “We’ll go to my office.”

Once they were seated, Tony unfolded the parchment and laid out his evidence: Petrification; dead roosters; spiders fleeing the castle; Myrtle’s death; the size of the Hogwarts plumbing. “Obviously, we can’t be one hundred percent sure, Professor, but it all points to a basilisk in the pipes.”

Professor McGonagall ran her finger down the page, frowning. “A basilisk’s gaze kills.”

“We thought about that, a lot. We figured out that none of the victims saw the basilisk head-on.” Tony ticked off each name on his fingers as he spoke. “Mrs. Norris was standing in a puddle, she must have seen a reflection. Colin Creevey had a camera. Justin Finch-Fletchley could have seen through Nearly-Headless Nick. Hermione Granger had a mirror in her hand, and since Je— _Gibbs_ was found in the library with her, we figure he probably saw it from the mirror too.”

She looked up, piercing him with her gaze. “And who, Mr. Paddington, is ‘we’?”

Tony shifted uncomfortably. “Me and… my friends.”

“For how long?”

“... A while.” He resisted the urge to squirm under her scrutiny. 

Finally, she smiled. “Good to see you making friends, Anthony. Heavens know we need some more cooperation between Houses.” The door banged open. “Speak of the devil. What is the matter, Severus?”

For someone who rarely showed emotion, Severus Snape looked remarkably harried and — dare Tony even think it — _fearful_. Two heads peered out from behind the professor, and one yelped, “Tony?”

“Kate? McGee?” Dread rose up in his chest. “Another attack?”

A beat.

“Worse,” said Professor Snape softly.

~.~+~.~

_The corridor outside Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom._

Tony, Kate, and McGee stared morosely at the bloody words on the wall. Tony’s eyes drifted to the blotchy stain where a long lock of orange hair had been stuck to the stone with blood.

“Wonder if Lockhart’s gotten anywhere,” said McGee gloomily.

After Professor Snape had shown Professor McGonagall the message, the Acting Headmistress delicately plucked the hair from the wall, stared at it for a long moment, then put her wand-tip to her throat and sent her magically-enhanced voice through the school, ordering all students back to their dorms and all staff to the staffroom. Then she flicked her hand at Tony, Kate, and McGee in a clear “Come with” gesture, and their group hurried to meet the faculty. 

“A student has been taken into the Chamber itself,” she announced solemnly.

No one wanted to ask the question, but finally Professor Flitwick squeaked, “Who? Do we know?”

Hand trembling, Professor McGonagall withdrew the lock of hair. “Poppy?”

Madam Pomfrey waved her wand over it. “ _Identita Revelio._ ” Her eyes filled with tears, and Tony felt dread pool in his stomach as she confirmed his suspicions. “Oh, Minerva, I’m so sorry. It’s… It’s Ginny Weasley’s.” Shocked gasps rang throughout the room. Kate and McGee exchanged horrified glances at the sound of their classmate’s name.

“We’ll have to close down the school,” murmured Professor Sinistra. “The governors will not stand for this.”

Professor McGonagall took a deep breath. “Perhaps. There is more. Mr. Paddington, if you would tell everyone what you told me.”

Tony felt oddly like a witness testifying at a trial as he laid out his basilisk evidence. Wait, did witnesses lay out evidence? Seemed more like something the prosecuting investigator might do. _Focus, DiNozzo._

Just as he finished, in burst the peacock known as Gilderoy Lockhart. Professor McGonagall, still noticeably wound up, practically snapped at him to get the hell out — in nicer terms, of course.

“And Gilderoy,” she added, as he backed away toward the door. “Escort Mr. Paddington, Mr. McGee, and Miss Todd back to their dormitories before beginning your search, if you would.”

Tony was entirely unsurprised that Lockhart abandoned the three of them barely a few corridors away because “I really do need to prepare… grab some things from my office… you know how it is. I’m sure you’ll be fine!”

The only reason Tony didn’t press Lockhart was because he knew McGee’s pure blood would indeed ensure the three of them remained unharmed. Though they agreed to go to Gryffindor Tower first to drop Tony off, somehow, by unspoken consensus and subconscious decision, their path turned down the stairs to the bathroom instead. Their pace was distinctly unhurried, each of them still processing the whirlwind revelations of the past half hour.

Now they stood, staring at the wall. Tony’s gaze wandered away from the blotch and down to the ground, where his eyes caught on… was that a tiny square of crumpled parchment? As he bent down, he heard Moaning Myrtle’s high, nasally voice. “Oh, Kate, you’re back again.”

“Hello, Myrtle,” said Kate with attempted cheer.

“Do you want to come inside?” asked Myrtle as Tony unfolded the parchment. “I could use someone to gossip with.” 

“Oh, no thank you —”

“Actually, Myrtle, we’d love to,” interrupted Tony, standing back up with parchment tightly gripped in his hand. “In fact, did someone come through here before us?”

Myrtle pouted. “Ooh, you’re stealing all my gossip, pretty boy. But I have more!” Giggling, she drifted through the door.

“Tony?”

Tony held out the parchment, and Kate and McGee crowded in. “ _Basilisk_ ,” read McGee. “This is torn from a library book. And look here — ‘Pipes.’ Someone else figured it out.”

Kate touched the partially smoothed-out creases. “Why’s it all crumpled?” 

“Someone had it in their hand,” muttered Tony, thinking. “Then it was smoothed out, folded up, put in a pocket —” He eyed the door. “Fell out when they entered the bathroom. Come on.”

They heard Myrtle’s echoing peals of laughter as they pulled open the door. “Oh, come in, come in! I bet you don’t know about _this_ , pretty boy!”

They stopped dead upon entering the bathroom proper. Staring at the bizarre set-up in front of him, Tony asked, in a slightly strangled voice, “Myrtle? What happened here?”

“Ooh, that’s the fun part!” She swooped down to perch on a stall. “Here I was, minding my own business, when all of a sudden _Harry Potter_ came in.”

“Was he alone?” asked Kate.

Myrtle made a face. “No, that disgusting boy Weasley was here too. And a man with golden hair and such _white_ teeth.”

 _Potter, Weasley, and Lockhart._ “Then what happened, Myrtle?”

“They asked me how I died! Isn’t that exciting, Kate?”

McGee coughed, covering a snort. Kate elbowed him. “Definitely, Myrtle.”

“No one ever cares about how I died,” Myrtle sighed dramatically. “But then Harry asked, and he was so nice about it, so I told him. And then they looked around, and then Harry made some weird hissy sounds, and then the sink did that!” She pointed at the aforementioned bizarre set-up: a hole in the middle of the sinks, one sink gone to allow access.

“And then where did they go, Myrtle?” asked Tony, feeling his heart rate pick up.

“Oh, they jumped in,” said Myrtle carelessly, picking at a mole on her nose. “I never liked slides — Huh.” Her brow furrowed, and she muttered to herself, “Didn’t Harry say something before going?”

Tony tapped his wand holster anxiously. “Maybe he asked you to tell someone where he’d gone?” _Like I told him to do, last night?_

“Sounds about right,” said Myrtle with a shrug.

“... Well, aren’t you going to tell someone?” ventured McGee.

Myrtle smirked. “Already did!” she sang. “I told you!”

Tony considered the options. Someone had to tell the staff, obviously. But there were two idiot second-years and a professor with questionable capabilities down there facing a basilisk and quite likely also its master, who would not hesitate to kill. They needed help, no matter how little.

Myrtle couldn’t be trusted to pass on a message. Tony himself was the best Duellist of their current group, which left either Kate or McGee. He hated to send away either of his friends, but… “McGee.”

“Yeah, Tony?”

“I need you to find Snape or McGonagall and tell them where the Chamber of Secrets is. Tell them Potter, Weasley, and Lockhart are down there already, and that Kate and I have gone to give them backup, but we need a rooster or something that can kill it.”

“But Tony, Kate will be targeted. I should go with you!”

Tony placed a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. “It’s a good thought, Tim, but I think we’re all going to be targets if we’re challenging the Heir of Slytherin, no matter our blood status. Kate’s quicker at Duelling than you are, and this is a scenario where her skill set is needed. But I’m sending you to the professors because I trust you, Tim. I know you’ll get it done, unlike Myrtle over there. We’re depending on you to bring the _real_ backup. Understand?”

Tim gulped and nodded. Tony clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man. Take this and go.” He shoved the torn page into Tim’s hand, and with one final backwards glance, Tim ran out the door. Tony faced Kate. “Ready?”

Her eyes blazed. “Ready!”

Tony held up a warning finger. “We’re going to take it slow. _Do not_ rush into anything.”

“I _know,_ Tony!” Kate huffed, swinging her legs over the lip of the hole. “Come on!” 

~.~+~.~

_Antechamber. The Chamber of Secrets._

They found a babbling Gilderoy Lockhart sitting in a caved-in tunnel next to a massive green snakeskin and a murderous-looking Ron Weasley perched on the rocks near the ceiling, wrestling boulders.

“Thank Merlin,” groaned Weasley as they approached. “Put me out of my misery.”

“Oh, hello!” chirped Lockhart. “Do you live here too?”

“...No,” said Tony. “Why, does someone else live here?”

“He thinks we _all_ live here,” grumbled Weasley. 

Kate fended off Lockhart’s outstretched hand. “What happened?”

“He took my wand and tried to Obliviate us,” Ron explained gloomily, holding up the taped-together stick in question. “It backfired and caused the cave-in. ‘Bout the only time this piece of junk did any sort of good was it made Lockhart lose his memory too, so now I’m only stuck with an idiot instead of a psycho. Anyway —” He shoved the large rock in his hand down the slope. “Harry’s on the other side — he’s gone ahead. I’ve been trying to make a hole, but it’s slow going.”

“I can cast an Exploding Charm,” Tony said, studying the rockfall. “Is it stable?”

Weasley shrugged. “Give it a try. I think there’re fewer rocks up here.”

Once Weasley had picked his way down, Tony aimed his wand approximately at the indicated spot. “Here goes. _Bombarda!_ ” All of them ducked as dust and rock bits rained down. Kate wiped her eyes and peered up. “I think I see some light. Tony?”

Tony obliged with another Exploding Charm that sent a shockwave through the stones nearer to the ceiling, sending some flying and others tumbling with an ominous rumble. They ducked again, but this time they weren’t so lucky. One rock cracked into Tony’s head, leaving him frantically blinking away the spots in his vision. Kate’s arm was grazed by a sharp edge. A particularly large boulder knocked Weasley to the ground, where he howled in pain. “My leg!”

Kate knelt down. “Where on your leg?”

“Ankle. I must have twisted it when I fell or something.” Weasley grimaced.

Tony and Kate helped move him to the cavern wall, where Lockhart grinned loopily at them before going back to singing nursery rhymes. 

“Listen, Weasley, we’re going on. Potter needs backup,” Tony said once the younger boy was settled. “Tim McGee went to get the professors, they’ll be here any minute now. Send them after us when they come, all right?”

Weasley nodded, and Kate and Tony stood up. “Hey, wait! You need to know what’s over there.”

Halfway up the rock pile, Tony just grinned cheekily. “Already do. It’s a basilisk.” He boosted Kate through the hole, then clambered through after her with Weasley’s indignant spluttering echoing behind them.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you,” Kate accused him, but there was a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.

“I will neither confirm nor deny. Look sharp!” They drew their wands as they approached the massive, snake-adorned stone doors. They were slightly ajar. Tony led the way, creeping forward, tugging the door open just enough to squeeze through. The moment his feet touched the ground on the other side, he darted for cover behind a carved snake head. Kate was right behind him.

“Was that a boy standing over Ginny?” she hissed. 

Tony peered around the carving cautiously. “I don’t know. We have to get closer.”

For they had both seen the same thing upon entering the Chamber of Secrets: at the far end of the long hall, there was Ginny Weasley, lying on the floor in front of a gigantic statue of Salazar Slytherin, Harry Potter kneeling by her side, and an unfamiliar dark-haired boy nearby. As Tony and Kate crept closer, the boy’s handsome features and a cruel smirk came into focus. Smirk-Face looked to be finishing up what Tony thought of as a “Typical Villainous Monologue,” and raised a wand. Tony tensed, ready to throw a Shield Charm up (even if Potter was just out of reach of his shield), but instead Smirk-Face turned and began writing in the air.

Abruptly, Kate grabbed his arm in alarm. “Tony!”

Sketched in fiery letters in the air was _TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE_. Smirk-Face — or, apparently, T.M. Riddle — swished his wand, and the letters began rearranging themselves. Tony’s blood ran cold at the result, and he exchanged a terrified look with Kate.

_I AM LORD VOLDEMORT._

~.~+~.~

_Moaning Myrtle’s Bathroom._

Tim stared in dismay at the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, which at some point had returned to being a set of bathroom sinks. He turned nervously to the professors squeezed into the bathroom behind him, each of whom were ready for battle. “I-I-I’m sorry, I swear i-it was here!”

“This is no time for jokes, Mr. McGee!” said Professor McGonagall severely.

“It’s _not_ a joke, the entrance is in the sinks!” To his horror, Tim felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“Minerva, McGee here is not one of your Gryffindors.” Professor Snape paced around the sinks, examining them carefully. “I do not believe he would lie to me — ah.” He pointed his wand at a tiny carved snake. “ _Revelio._ ”

Everyone held their breath, but nothing happened. A high, chittering giggle reached their ears.

“Silly Professor Snape!” Myrtle cooed as she floated down. “You don’t point your wand at it, you make hissy snake sounds! That’s what Harry did.”

Professor Snape’s face darkened. “Parseltongue.”

“Maybe there’s another way in?” Tim whispered hopefully.

On cue, there was a trilling bird call. Tim looked up just as a large fiery-orange bird carrying something in its talons swooped into the bathroom, sending Myrtle shrieking into her toilet. The bird cried again, then to Tim’s shock it flared its wings and _burst into flame_. 

“A phoenix,” he breathed as the last of the fire vanished from the air.

“Albus knows,” he heard Professor McGonagall murmur beside him. She raised her voice. “Everyone, search for another entrance. I’d rather not destroy the sinks, but I am not losing my students to a mythical monster!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we get into some fun action and more canon deviation! The spell "Identita Revelio" is made up by yours truly, meant to be a variation of the Revealing Charm (Revelio) that would basically act like fingerprint/DNA/facial identification. The idea is: if you have an organic part of someone (hair, fingernail clipping, etc) and you know the person, then you can identify them. I always did wonder how McGonagall knew it was Ginny Weasley who was taken and not one of the other 500-ish students in the school...
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it, dear reader! Drop a comment with speculations and/or feedback, and leave a kudos if you're raring for more! Until next time!


	15. When They Battled in the Chamber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony, Kate, McGee, and Harry Potter all get to play hero in their own ways.

_ The Chamber of Secrets. _

Okay, the phoenix was pretty awesome, but Tony just couldn’t see how the  _ Sorting Hat _ it dropped into Potter’s hands was going to be any use. He was thankful for small mercies, though, such as Smirk-Face (or Tom Riddle, or the  _ friggin Dark Lord of England _ , since apparently they were all the same person) starting his Villainous Dialogue with Harry Potter — an event which, as Tony had explained to Jethro once, often follows the Villainous Monologue and usually involves the Hero challenging the Villain’s gloating.

And which also, in this case, allowed Tony and Kate to skirt even closer, close enough to see the paleness of Ginny’s skin. Every one of Tony’s senses was on high alert, because there was one very large, scaly piece of this scene that was missing. 

“Where’s the basilisk?” Kate whispered.

Smirk-Face started hissing, and Tony gulped. “Careful what you wish for, Kate.” 

Squeezing his eyes shut, he groped for her hand and gripped it tightly. “You gotta get Ginny Weasley to safety. Use Full-Body Binds for defense, but avoid Riddle. There’s something not right about him.”

Kate couldn’t help but whimper at the sound of scales sliding over stone. “What about you?”

“There’s a curse I’ve been trying to learn. It could stop the basilisk’s kill-stare.”

Kate squeezed tighter. “No, Tony! You have to look to aim — it could kill you!”

“The eyes have got to go, or we’re all dead.” Tony took a deep breath, trying to ignore his racing heart beating a tattoo in his chest, and gently pried Kate’s fingers off. He could hear Potter’s footsteps starting to run. Now or never. “Keep your eyes down, Kate.”

“Tony!”

Before he could lose his nerve, he gritted his teeth and crept out from behind the stone, daring to crack open his eyes a sliver, praying he got lucky. He caught a glimpse of a massive green serpent, facing away from him, clearly focused on its fleeing prey. There was no time to think. He raised his wand, aimed carefully at where the snake’s eyes would be, hoped fervently that two weeks of practice would be enough. One last breath for courage. Then — “HEY! OVER HERE!”

Before the words were out, before the snake even began turning, Tony closed his eyes, flicked his wand in the shape of an eye and yelled, “ _ OCULUS TUMENTI! _ ”

_ Oculus Tumenti _ , the Conjunctivitis Curse, a spell known for working against magic-resistant dragon hides. Despite practicing every day since he had asked Professor Kettleburn how to defeat a dragon (or a giant death snake), Tony had only successfully cast it twice before. 

Tony dove for cover as soon as he felt magic shoot away from his wand’s tip. The basilisk roared in pain so loudly that he felt the vibrations through the stone. Despite himself, he grinned. “Third time’s the charm, DiNozzo,” he muttered. “One eye down, one to go.”

“WHO WAS THAT?” raged Riddle. “Kill him! Kill Potter! KILL THEM ALL!” Tony heard the strangled hissing of Parseltongue and hoped that Kate was still all right. A body threw itself down beside him, and he almost jumped out of his skin.

“It’s me!” Potter gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your ass!”

“Well, whatever you did, can you do it again?”

“I can try —” The hairs stood up on the back of Tony’s neck. “Don’t look now, but… RUN!”

Blindly, they scrambled away from the snake head carving. There was the crunch of fangs crushing stone, and Tony clipped another carving as they ran.

“I can’t aim without looking!” Tony gasped, holding his bruised arm. “It needs to look away!”

~.~+~.~

While Riddle was busy watching his pet basilisk chase her friend around the Chamber (and Kate tried not to think about that — both the imminent threat of death and the fact that yes, she considered that idiot boy her friend, and by  _ God _ she hoped Tony was still alive), Kate was able to creep over to Ginny. The once-spirited Gryffindor looked frail and weak, like she was made of paper.

Still weighed like a person, though. And loath as she was to admit it, Kate was shorter and smaller than her. Dragging Ginny by her armpits was painfully slow, and Kate was really just waiting for Riddle to turn and catch her in the act. That would be the icing on this horrible cake.

There was a gentle  _ whoosh _ of feathered wings, and the phoenix — what did Potter call it, Fawkes? — swooped down to land on Ginny’s legs.

“No, shoo, I can’t pull you too!” Kate hissed frantically at it. Fawkes cocked his head, then rose into the air, gripping Ginny’s robes by the shoulders and easily pulling her to relative safety behind a carving. “Oh… I mean, thank you.”

The phoenix gave an alarmed trill. Kate turned to see the basilisk bearing down on — “TONY!” she screamed, sheer panic overtaking her sense of preservation. The basilisk turned its head at her voice, and Fawkes took flight at once, spreading his wings directly over Kate’s line of sight and giving her the split second she needed to close her eyes.

“LOOK OVER HERE!” she heard Potter shout from the far end of the cavern, and almost immediately Tony’s voice followed. “ _ OCULUS TUMENTI!” _

For a moment, everything was silent. Kate risked a peek. Even the snake had stopped, clearly expecting pain, but no jet of light came from Tony’s wand. Horror washed over her like a wave. Almost in slow motion, the basilisk reared up over its prey.

Fawkes screeched, soaring up to rake at the basilisk’s head with razor-sharp talons. Instinctively the snake twisted to face its attacker, and Kate gasped in relief as Tony and Potter managed to scramble to the side. 

Basilisk and phoenix tangled and wrestled, spitting fury and beating wings, until with another roar of pain the basilisk threw the bird off and faced Kate’s direction. Her breath caught — its remaining eye had been gouged out.

“Stupid phoenix!” Riddle spat. “You may have blinded my basilisk, but it can still smell you!” He hissed a command in Parseltongue, then turned to face Kate, tightly-wound rage written into every line of his body. His face contorting in a snarl, he raised his wand. “As for  _ you _ —”

_ Move _ , Kate thought, but her body was frozen. There was yelling coming from the other side of the Chamber, but all she could see was that wand-tip, pointed at her face.

~.~+~.~

As soon as the phoenix struck, Tony ran toward the Salazar Slytherin statue. He heard Riddle’s threat, saw the wand come up to point at Kate’s face. Without thinking, he raised his own wand and bellowed, “ _ PROTEGO!” _

The silver shield sprung up just as Riddle drew his arm back in preparation of hurling some Unforgivable curse. The older boy paused, then turned with that arrogant, cocky,  _ infuriating _ smirk. “Cute. Impressive for your age, I’ll give you that, but still — cute.”

Tony skidded to a stop but kept his wand pointed. “You stay away from her,” he snarled, stalking forward with deliberate steps.

“What’s your name?” asked Riddle casually, as if they weren’t standing in a sewer/mythical chamber with, oh yeah, a _giant snake_ _trying to kill them._

“Paddington,” said Tony, angling his steps sideways.  _ That’s it, come on — keep looking at me — turn away from Kate —  _

“Paddington? I knew a Paddington. Clive, I believe — pureblood, Slytherin.” Tony wanted to punch that smirk off his face. “Shame he graduated before I  _ really  _ started growing my power.”

“Real pity,” Tony drawled.

“Oh, but wasn’t there a sister? Claire, or something?” Riddle tapped his chin, mockingly thoughtful. “Pretty little thing.”

Blood boiling, Tony spat, “She was my mother.”

A gleam entered Riddle’s eye. “Quite a talented witch.  _ And _ she had an eye for handsome men like myself —”

Tony saw red. 

“ _ PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!”  _ he snarled. The Full-Body Bind streaked toward Riddle… and passed  _ through _ him. 

Riddle looked down in mild curiosity. “Hmm. I suppose being a memory has its benefits, seeing as  _ I _ can still do this.” Smirking, he raised his wand and opened his mouth.

“ _ EXPELLIARMUS!” _

The Disarming Charm passed clear through Riddle, striking the wand and blowing it out of his hand. Tony’s eyes followed its trajectory up, then down, right into Kate’s waiting palm. In spite of the situation, he grinned. “Good shot, Kate!”

Riddle’s handsome face filled with murderous rage. “You — You  _ dare _ —”

There was a strangled yell from the other side of the Chamber, and Tony whipped around. 

Potter had his arm in the basilisk’s open mouth. A silver sword — Tony did a double take; where did the sword come from!? — stuck out of its head. As they watched, Potter yanked his arm and the sword free with a grunt of pain, then turned to face Riddle defiantly, swaying slightly on his feet. Tony lunged forward to steady him, but his heart sank at the sight of a six-inch fang stuck in Potter’s arm. Grimacing, he pulled it out and gently guided Potter down to the ground, carefully laying the sword off to the side.

Dark satisfaction was written across Riddle’s face. “You may have killed my basilisk, but a basilisk’s venom is as fatal as its sight. You’re dead, Potter, just as you should be.”

“Don’t listen to him, Potter, stay with me.” Tony pressed one hand on the wound, trying to stem its sluggish but steady flow of blood. Potter blinked woozily at him as he fumbled his wand with his other hand, then said, “Is that Fawkes?” The phoenix landed, trilled sadly, and lay his head on Potter’s shoulder.

Riddle laughed, having come closer to watch the show. “Even Dumbledore’s bird knows you’re dying. And you, Paddington — you’re next, you and your pretty little friend.”

Tony gritted his teeth, swallowing down his rage, and pointed his wand at the hem of his robe. “Ignore him —  _ Diffindo _ — here, use this as a bandage…” 

He trailed off, severed fabric dangling from his fingers, at the sight of Fawkes the phoenix’s glistening tears being absorbed into Potter’s wound. As he watched, the gash gradually stopped bleeding, knit itself back together, and closed up without a scar. Amazed, Tony let go and backed up as Potter got to his feet. Together, they faced Riddle, whose face showed a hint of nervousness that was quickly covered by arrogance. “You can’t hurt me, you know.”

“I can damn well try,” Tony snarled, wand pointed and ready.

“You’re a talented wizard, Paddington. I can give you power.”

Tony jabbed his wand forward, making Riddle flinch. He sneered. “Yeah, right, Voldie. You don’t have any power. You’re just a memory.”

Riddle sneered back. “You can’t hurt a memory.”

“Actually, I think we can.” 

Everyone stopped and turned to Kate, who had come over and picked up the sword with both hands, pointing its tip at something small, black, and rectangular trapped under her foot. Riddle’s eyes widened with true fear. 

“ _ I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, _ ” Kate said, repeating Riddle’s words from earlier. She tilted her head. “I wonder what would happen if that diary were destroyed?”

Without hesitation, she plunged the blade down.

“NO!” Riddle attempted to lunge for her but crumpled to his knees instead. He screamed, a terrible, unearthly sound that echoed around the chamber, writhing and twisting, hands clawing at his chest and the air as ink spurted from the stabbed diary. A crack appeared in his torso, filled with light, as if he was a paper vessel with light trapped inside, pushing at the boundaries until Riddle exploded into nothingness.

Tony blinked the spots out of his eyes. “Whoa. That was… dramatic.” Exhaustion swept over him, and he swayed. Suddenly Kate was at his side, steadying him. “Hey, don’t faint on me,” she said.

“DiNozzos don’t faint,” he grumbled.

“You pig,” she said affectionately, though her brow furrowed in confusion. 

Potter stumbled toward the Salazar Slytherin statue. “Wait, where’s Ginny?”

“Safe over here,” Kate replied, already moving. Her hand remained firmly clamped on Tony’s, though, and he allowed himself to be tugged over to the snake head carving. To Potter’s relief, Ginny was stirring, mumbling a little and blinking her eyes open.

It took a little handling, but soon the four of them were up and walking toward the Chamber door, Tony helping Potter to support Ginny and Fawkes trilling at them every now and then. They clambered through, and Tony groaned at the thought of having to climb the rock pile. 

“Could you blow another hole?” ventured Kate.

Tony was about to reply that he doubted he could blow a raspberry at her, much less cast an Exploding Charm, when several adult voices said “ _ Evanesco _ ” and the entire rockfall vanished. Tony stared, bewildered, at the unexpected sight of little Timothy McGee with a feathery bundle in his arms and several professors flanking him with wands out. For a moment they all stood, frozen in shock.

Then Tony blurted, “Tim, why are you holding a rooster?” and the spell was broken.

“The basilisk?” demanded Professor McGonagall.

Kate showed her the sword. “Dead.”

Although Professor McGonagall looked disbelieving, she evidently recognized that there was no basilisk in the vicinity and waved her wand to Transfigure the rooster back into a rock, which McGee promptly tossed aside as he ran forward and wrapped Kate in a hug.

“Whoa! Pulling an Abby, Tim?” she laughed, and he let go sheepishly.

“Sorry, I just — I didn’t know whether you both were alive,” he said quietly. “I’ve been worried out of my mind.”

“And Mr. McGee wasn’t the only one,” Professor McGonagall broke in sternly. She eyed each member of the ragged bunch. “First, we shall all go to the Hospital Wing and have Madam Pomfrey look you over. And then you will tell me  _ everything  _ that happened and exactly  _ why _ you thought any of this was a good idea!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello wonderful people! Sorry this took FOREVER. I just started college and the grind is real, and I haven't had time to write at all! But I do have quite a few buffer chapters, and after I received a really nice comment, I decided to post. So now you know: comment enough, and the happy author will update sooner...
> 
> Notes:  
> \- The Conjunctivitis Curse is canon, and is referenced in Goblet of Fire. Viktor Krum used it, and Sirius recommended it, for fighting against the dragons in the First Task. (No idea who or what I'm talking about? Go read the books!) The incantation, however, is my own creation.


	16. When the Truth Came Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate empathizes with Harry, McGonagall reconsiders her life choices, and everyone is happy in the end except Malfoy.

To Kate’s astonishment, the bathroom looked like it had been bombed. Or possibly blown up with a grenade. Or a rocket launcher.

“What’s a grenade?” asked Ron Weasley as the professors quickly repaired the scattered pieces of sink and hustled the rest of them out of the bathroom. 

“It’s a Muggle weapon,” replied McGee. “It’s like…  _ Bombarda _ in a container. You pull a pin and trigger the spell.”

“And what’s a rocket launcher?”

“It shoots grenades and other grenade-like exploding objects,” said Kate.

“I am officially disturbed that you two,” Tony pointed at Kate and McGee, “know what grenades and rocket launchers are at your age.”

Kate made a face. “I have three older brothers.”

McGee ducked his head and mumbled something she didn’t catch. Tony seemed to hear it, though, and clapped a supportive hand on the younger boy’s shoulder.

They would have made for quite a sight, if there had been anyone out wandering the halls to see it: Professor McGonagall, leading the charge, flanked by Professors Snape and Flitwick with Gilderoy Lockhart chattering incessantly to the latter; Harry Potter and Ron Weasley supporting a trembling Ginny Weasley between them; Tony with a phoenix resting on his shoulder, McGee in between him and Kate, who held a long silver sword; and Professors Sprout and Kettleburn bringing up the rear.

Suddenly, Madam Hooch popped out of a side hallway. “Minerva, thank goodness you’re alright! They’re waiting in your office.”

“Bring them to the infirmary. Then, if you would, stop by Gryffindor Tower and tell Aurora that the threat has passed and that I will update her and the others as soon as I get the full story. Filius, Severus, Pomona—”

“Relieve the others. Of course, Minerva,” squeaked Flitwick.

“And Silvanus, if you would entertain Mr. Lockhart here…”

“You betcha, Minnie.”

Before Kate knew it, the professors had gone to their respective tasks, and the corridor was half as full as it was mere seconds ago. Professor McGonagall gave them all a stern glare. “Come, let’s not dally.”

As they walked, Kate felt the last of her adrenaline fade away to be replaced with bone-deep exhaustion. The ruby-encrusted sword she still gripped in her hands suddenly felt like it weighed twice as much, and she fought to keep the tip off the ground. 

“Want a hand?” McGee asked.

“No, I can do it,” Kate replied stubbornly. “But thanks,” she added. 

Suddenly, Fawkes trilled excitedly, a beautiful, resonant note, then took off from his perch on Tony’s shoulder to speed toward the Hospital Wing entrance, which had just come into sight. When they entered, Kate realized why, just before her view was blocked by two red-haired adults who threw themselves onto the Weasley siblings with shouts of “GINNY!”

Tony sidled around them, and Kate and McGee followed. He smiled sheepishly. “Hello, Headmaster Dumbledore.”

“Hello, Mr. Paddington. Miss Todd, Mr. McGee.” Professor Dumbledore eyed their grimy clothes and the sword in Kate’s hands. “You appear to have gone through quite an ordeal. Have a seat. Madam Pomfrey will see to you, and then we shall talk.”

After much fussing and crying, everyone was seated on beds and chairs. Kate tried not to look at the beds with the Petrified students, but she couldn’t resist — she peeked, only to realize that the area had been partitioned off with hospital dividers. She exchanged glances with Tony and McGee and saw the same worry in their eyes.

“Madam Pomfrey?” she ventured when the matron handed her a cup of tea. She nodded at the partitions. “Are they okay?”

“No worse than before,” Madam Pomfrey replied briskly. “Mandrakes are ready for cutting, though with this terrible affair it seems we’ll have to begin tomorrow. I’m simply preparing their bodies to receive the antidote.”

Kate didn’t like how “preparing their bodies” sounded uncomfortably like language someone might use in an autopsy. Or possibly a funeral home.

“Now, if you would all be so kind,” Professor Dumbledore said, stroking the phoenix sitting in his lap, “Please tell us exactly what happened.”

Potter shifted in his seat, fiddling with the Sorting Hat in his lap. “Well, it all started with… I mean, there’s so much…”

“It started with the basilisk,” Tony interrupted. “When Potter and my team figured out, separately, that a basilisk was behind the attacks.”

“I’m not sure how Paddington found out,” said Potter, “But for me and Ron, it was Hermione who first realized that the Parselmouth I’d been hearing was the basilisk in the walls…”

As Madam Pomfrey bustled around mending scrapes and serving tea, Tony and Potter took turns telling their respective stories up until the part when Tony, Kate, and McGee entered the bathroom.

“You forgot the part where you interrogated me and Harry in the hallway,” grumbled Weasley. 

“You faced  _ acromantulas _ in the Forbidden Forest!?” McGee practically squawked.

“Hold on,” said Professor McGonagall. “Am I to understand that you two —” She motioned to Potter and Weasley. “And your… group —” She waved at Tony. “Did all this  _ without _ the staff noticing?”

“Um, yes?” Potter said hesitantly. 

“And you  _ both _ found out where the entrance was, and decided that you should go down into the Chamber without an adult? Care to explain your reasoning?”

“Hey, I sent McGee to get you,” Tony protested. “And the only reason Kate and I didn’t wait was because  _ they _ —” He pointed to Potter and Weasley. “Were already down there,  _ alone _ .”

Professor McGonagall shook her head disbelievingly and sat back in her chair, looking like she was reconsidering her life choices. Kate could almost see her thoughts:  _ How did I end up with this many nosy, reckless students… _

Potter explained the parts of the Villainous Monologue that Kate and Tony had missed while they were blasting through the rockfall, and then the back-and-forth started up again, Kate and Tony pitching in with their respective roles in the defeat of the basilisk.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Kate said partway through. “You pulled this sword out of the  _ Sorting Hat!? _ ”

“And here I thought magicians pulling things out of hats was just a parlor trick,” Tony quipped.

McGee, face still faintly green from when Potter told them he was stabbed by a basilisk fang, picked up the story then, explaining how he ran to get the professors, how the Chamber’s entrance had closed, and how they had subsequently blasted their way in to find Weasley and Lockhart.

By the end of the entire tale, Mrs. Weasley had tears coming down her face, and Mr. Weasley was hugging his daughter so tightly she was starting to look a little breathless. 

“Potter didn’t mention the diary,” Kate muttered.

“Probably because Voldemort came out of it,” Tony muttered back. McGee flinched. “Oops, sorry. Forgot you British guys are squeamish about the name.”

Kate frowned. “We are?”

Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat. “What interests  _ me _ most is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny in the first place, when my sources tell me he is currently hiding in the forests of Albania.” 

Every person in the room aside from Dumbledore, Potter, Tony, and Kate flinched, and she conceded in a whisper, “Okay, I see what you mean.”

Potter explained the magic in the diary, and Ginny, sobbing, admitted to writing in it all year. Her parents immediately began fussing over her again.

“Ginny!” exclaimed Mr. Weasley. “What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain! Why didn’t you show it to me —”

Professor Dumbledore stood up. “Perhaps a little space would be for the best. Mr. Weasley, you are welcome to stay with your family. Mr. Potter, Mr. Paddington, Miss Todd, Mr. McGee — if none of you are hurt, then let us walk toward my office, and we shall stop at your common rooms along the way. Minerva?” The deputy headmistress stood up. “I think this all merits a good feast for tomorrow evening. Might I go ask you to alert the kitchens?”

Professor McGonagall nodded sharply, and turned to leave before pausing. “Potter, Weasley, Paddington — that was  _ incredibly _ reckless of you. But also… very brave. And Todd, McGee —” To Kate’s surprise, she gave them both an approving nod. “You may be Severus’ snakes, but you’ve a touch of lion in you. Well done.” Speech finished, she strode out of the Hospital Wing. 

Professor Dumbledore inclined his head, and Kate fell into line with the other three students, following the headmaster out like a row of ducklings. Potter seemed distracted, speeding up his steps to walk next to the headmaster. Tony dropped back, leaving a gap between them. “He looks like he wants a private word,” he explained. 

McGee made a thoughtful noise. “We need to tell Abby, Luna, and Ducky everything.”

“Oh God, you’re right,” Kate said, eyes widening. “Abby is going to go  _ ballistic _ .”

“I’ll send Fornell to Ravenclaw Tower as soon as we get back,” Tony said, before letting out a huge yawn. “Or after we get some sleep. I’m beat.”

“You don’t say,” Kate agreed.

“I think I might grab a snack first, though. You two want to come?”

McGee’s brow furrowed. “Aren’t the kitchens in the basement?”

Tony just grinned mischievously. 

Ahead of them, Dumbledore stopped abruptly, and his words were loud enough for them to hear. By his side-glance toward them, it was done on purpose.

“Remember, it is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities,” he declared gently but firmly. “Miss Todd, may I borrow that sword for a moment?”

Kate blinked down at the sword in her hands, then handed it over to Dumbledore. By unspoken agreement, the four students crowded around it as the headmaster rotated the ruby-encrusted hilt until the firelight of a nearby torch flashed off a name.

“Godric Gryffindor?” McGee read out loud.

“Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled this out of the Sorting Hat,” said Dumbledore. “But that certainly does not discount its noble wielding this day by a young Slytherin.” 

Kate thought back to her own Sorting. The words slipped out. “The Hat said I would do well in Gryffindor.”

Potter’s mouth fell open. “It said the same to me about Slytherin.”

“Then I suppose we’re not so different,” Kate said with a smile. “We just made different choices at that moment, that’s all.”

~.~+~.~

_ Evening Feast. Great Hall. The next day. _

“What’s up with his face?” Tony asked Potter as he sat down.

“Who?”

Tony pointed at Malfoy. If glares were heat rays, Malfoy’s angry sneer would have fried Potter to a crisp, even from across the Hall.

“Um, I might have accidentally made his father really,  _ really  _ mad by tricking him into freeing their house-elf?”

Tony grinned. “Never a dull moment with you, Potter. Bet the slimy jerk deserved it.”

“You’ve met Lucius Malfoy before?” asked Weasley from Potter’s other side.

“Let’s just say there are many reasons I don’t like going back to Paddington House for Christmas, and he’s one of them,” Tony said with a shrug. “How’s Ginny?”

“Better. She was mostly just drained,” Weasley replied.

Potter lowered his voice. “Lucius Malfoy was the one who slipped her the diary in the first place.”

Tony scowled. “I’ll make sure to punch him at the summer gala.”

“Punching politicians is rarely a good idea, Cub.”

Tony almost tripped over the bench. A smile split his face, so wide his cheeks hurt. “Boss! You’re back!”

Leroy Jethro Gibbs spread his hands. “So I am.” A beat. Jethro huffed. “Oh, come on. I know you want to do it.”

Scrambling over the bench, Tony engulfed his best friend in a tight embrace. He felt Jethro lean into his shoulder and chuckled weakly. “You’re going soft, Jeth.” He blinked back tears. “I almost lost you.”

“But you didn’t,” Jethro murmured. He squeezed tightly. “Thank you, Tony.”

“I’ve got your six, Boss. Always.” Reluctantly, Tony pulled away. “Have you seen the others yet?”

Quirking a half-smile, Jethro shook his head. “Heading for Slytherin next.”

“Probably for the better,” Tony agreed. “Abby might break your ribs and send you back to the Hospital Wing.”

Jethro’s gaze flicked to something behind him, and he jerked his chin. Bemused, Tony turned to see Hermione Granger beaming at him, freshly released from her own best friends’ hugs.

“I heard you helped Harry and Ron figure out the Chamber, and that you fought the basilisk with them,” she said, and held out a hand. “Thank you.”

Tony shook it. “No problem, Granger. Stick around though, Potter and Weasley are lost without you.”

“Hey!” protested Weasley. 

Granger grinned. “Call me Hermione, and they’re Harry and Ron. You’ve both helped us through two dangerous situations now, I think we should be on more familiar terms.”

Tony turned to Jethro. “See, I’ll never understand why you British dudes are such sticklers for names. And what are you still doing here? Forget death-by-hug, Abby will just flat out kill you if you take much longer.”

Chuckling, Jethro raised his hands in surrender and left. Tony gave Hermione a flourishing bow. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady. Shall we?”

She giggled, taking his proffered hand and sitting between him and Harry. Tony caught Ron’s eye and snorted. “Oh, relax, I’m not trying to steal your girlfriend.”

“What — she’s not my girlfriend!”

Tony smirked, then winced sympathetically as he spotted a black blur practically tackling Jethro as he unsuccessfully tried to sneak past the Ravenclaw table. “Ouch. That looked painful.”

“You have interesting friends,” Harry noted.

Smiling genuinely at that, Tony helped himself to a slice of apple pie. “There’s no one else in the world like them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! I have just been released from the clutches of academia for winter break, and decided to celebrate by posting another chapter. I'll be writing and updating at least for the next month or so, rest assured! In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed the conclusion to Chamber of Secrets. Drop a kudos and/or comment if you liked it, and keep an eye out for the upcoming transition to Prisoner of Azkaban!


	17. The Team in the Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We ARE friends. You're welcome here, you know."

_McGee Residence. Village of Wyrmwood Vale, Ireland. Summer 1993._

When Magical Law Enforcement Patrol Captain John McGee swept through the front door with a thunderous look on his stern features, Tim knew there was trouble afoot. 

In a well-practiced maneuver, he and his mother sprang into action. While Leah McGee dispatched their house-elf for tea and welcomed her husband home with respectfully-dipped head, Tim went to fetch his sister Sarah. He cajoled her into quickly brushing down her hair and slipping on a neat blouse before hustling them both down to meet their father.

Standing rigidly at attention by the wall, Tim waited as his mother served tea to the Captain (not “Daddy,” not “Dad,” not even “John,” always _the Captain_ ), nudging Sarah when she fidgeted. 

(The Captain didn’t tolerate fidgeting, not from his men or his children.)

“We have a new assignment,” the Captain said finally. His eyes flicked to Tim and Sarah. “I’ll be working late for the foreseeable future. I might have to leave for a few days at a time.”

Tim swallowed his curiosity. Sarah had no such restraint. “What will you be doing?”

“That’s none of your business, Sarah. Now, Timothy, tell me about your summer schoolwork.”

Giving his father a concise, to-the-point report was a familiar ritual, but this time Tim thought suddenly of his friends. The first time Gibbs barked “Report!” during their Chamber of Secrets investigation, Tim had immediately fallen into the patterns he used with the Captain. The look Gibbs had given him afterward made him feel queasy with inexplicable nerves until the older boy nodded firmly and told him “Good work, Tim.”

That was the difference, Tim realized. That was why every meeting in the clock tower felt less and less like reporting to the Captain, why Tim’s reflexively stiff stance gradually relaxed over time. Gibbs — all his friends — they cared about what Tim did, and they made sure he knew it. Like every time Kate shared an amused smirk with him when Tony did something crazy, or when Luna gave everyone flower bracelets at the end of the year, or when Abby sent him a package of cookies just after the summer holidays began. Even Tony’s teasing and Gibbs’ silent, assessing stares reassured Tim that he was part of their group.

When the Captain dismissed them, Sarah scampered out of the room immediately, but Tim paused.

“Is something the matter, Tim?” asked the Captain.

Tim cleared his throat and pulled a folded piece of parchment out of his pocket. “Um, yes, sir. I received this letter yesterday.” He held it out. The Captain eyed it for a moment before reaching out. His eyebrows shot up at the name. “Paddington?”

Tim shifted his weight, then consciously stopped himself. “Yes, sir. I met Anthony Paddington at school this year. We became friends.” Even if Tony seemed to have some aversion to saying “McGee” as opposed to all manner of “McNicknames.”

Something that might have been a smile crossed the Captain’s expression. Tim searched for any flicker of approval. Was that pride or satisfaction? Certainly, the Captain looked more pleased than Tim had seen for a long time.

“Invitation to the midsummer gala,” the Captain read, nodding. “Write him back, Timothy. Tell him we would be honored to attend.”

“Yes, sir.” Tim dipped his head and turned to leave.

“Tim.”

He halted. “Yes, sir?”

“Good work.”

Tim hesitated. “Thank you, sir.” He continued up the stairs with an odd mix of pride and guilt swirling in his gut.

It wasn’t like he’d become friends with Tony Paddington on the Captain’s orders. Heck, if at the beginning of the year you had asked him whether he’d like to spend time with Paddington, he probably would have said no! But at the same time, it had been so long since he had heard approval in his father’s voice… 

In the safety of his room, he slipped the gilded invitation back into the original envelope along with Tony’s handwritten letter.

Somehow he didn’t think the Captain would be quite as pleased if he had read the Paddington heir’s complaints about “ _all these bigwig wizards, UGH, at least I know Clive won’t throw a fuss about inviting you, Tim, so PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE come and keep me company during this year’s torture session…_ ”

~.~+~.~

For her twelfth birthday, Kate asked for a broomstick.

“You want a _what_?” chortled her oldest brother Roy. 

“What happened to “breaking stereotypes’ and all that?” added her middle brother, Cam. “Witch on a broomstick is about as stereotypical as it gets.”

“You even have a black cat,” quipped her youngest brother Sean. 

“Ellie is the family pet,” Kate’s older sister Rachel said placatingly. 

“Do I _look_ green and warty to you?” Kate snapped at her brothers.

To her relief (and after a very long explanation about wizarding sports), her parents agreed. Kate had always been athletic, and just because the sport in question was different didn’t mean she was going to stop playing. Second-years were allowed to try out for the House team, and Kate was determined to make the cut. 

Even if it meant flying with that snob Malfoy.

They went together to Diagon Alley, six Muggles and a witch, and Kate’s siblings appeased her by pooling their allowance and purchasing a Quidditch Self-Practice Set (“Sharpen your skills and surprise your team when the season starts!”) in addition to the Nimbus Two Thousand and One her parents insisted on (“You said all the other players had this one, didn’t you? Can’t let you start on an uneven playing field — so to speak, dear.”)

Before they left, Kate dropped by the post office to ask a question that had been nagging at her since she left Platform 9¾.

“If I live in the Muggle world and I don’t have an owl, how can I write to my friends in the magical world?”

(She’d gotten their addresses, but she suspected that “Paddington House” and “Wyrmwood Vale” didn’t show up in a normal post directory.)

“You have some options,” replied the portly wizard behind the counter. “Most owl-less witches and wizards use a simple variation of the Summoning Charm — but of course, you’re underage… for you, we also stock Mail Bells, which summon the nearest available public post owl. Each delivery costs two Knuts, and you can pay on delivery or participate in a prepaid schedule: two Sickles for a month, five Sickles and fourteen Knuts for three months —”

“And what about those?” Kate interrupted.

“Enchanted stamps. Tap them with your wand before putting the letter in your mailbox, and it’ll be transported straight to its destination.” The postman made a face. “Rather out of fashion, I say. Everyone uses owls. That’s how it is.”

Just for that, Kate smiled sweetly at him and bought the stamps.

The Todds lived in the countryside, which gave Kate plenty of space to practice flying as long as she stuck somewhat close to the ground. One day, as she, Rachel, and Sean sat outside on the grass drinking lemonade and munching on Abby’s cookies (which had arrived a day earlier by owl), Sean suddenly asked, “Can I ride your broomstick?”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Aaaaand there it is. He’s been going back and forth on whether to ask you for _days_.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised it took you this long,” Kate admitted. “Not sure if it’ll work for anyone non-magical, but here, try it.”

When the Nimbus worked for Sean, Rachel also wanted a go, and then of course Roy and Cam each wanted to take a turn, and a new Todd family activity was born.

~.~+~.~

_Paddington House._

“Anthony! Where are you, the guests will be arriving at any moment now!”

At his uncle’s shout, Tony scribbled a final line on his letter and rushed to tie it onto Fornell’s leg. The great gray owl snapped his beak irritably at the manhandling (owl-handling?) as Tony shooed him out the window, closed the latch and turned around just before Clive Paddington opened the door.

“Good, you’re dressed,” he said. “Come, let’s get ready.”

Tony gave a jerky nod and followed his uncle downstairs and outside, where an elaborate gilded tent had been set up in the late afternoon sunlight. There was a family in their best robes already waiting by the entrance.

The tall man inclined his head as they approached. “Lord Paddington, it’s an honor,” he said, holding out a hand. “Captain John McGee, Head Hit Wizard of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol.”

Clive had his “greeting the guests” smile on. “Welcome, Captain McGee. You’re early.”

“Early is on time, in my book,” declared Captain McGee. “This is my wife, Leah, and my children, Tim and Sarah.”

Clive’s eyes flicked to Tim, then back. “Pleasure. Please, help yourself to refreshments…” He led Captain McGee away, and Tony beckoned Tim over.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Tim,” Tony said, looking his friend up and down before clapping him on his shoulder. “Good to see you.”

“You too.” Tim looked around, a little nervous. “How do these things usually go?”

“Basically? People arrive, talk, eat, then at sunset, we light a giant bonfire and dance.” At McGee’s alarmed look, Tony smirked. “Don’t worry, it’s not as freaky as it sounds. It’s an old Midsummer practice. The Paddingtons have ancestral ties to druids, and Uncle Clive — Lord Paddington — tries to keep some traditions going.”

“Alban Heruin?” McGee repeated, lost.

“ _Light of the Shore_ , the old name for Midsummer. I got a whole lecture last year about ley lines, fae, and nature magic. ‘S why everything’s covered in plants.” He pointed at the flowering vines and leaves artfully lining the tent. “C’mon, I’ll show you around back. The dance is actually kind of fun — a bit tricky to learn, but watching all those aristocrats get peer-pressured into it is always a hoot. Most of them gave up druidic traditions a long time ago, but none of them want to anger Lord Paddington.”

He led the way through the tent, where a few more guests had arrived and were chatting, past McGee’s mother entertaining his sister, out the back and along a path lined with plant-draped lanterns that led to a wide field behind Paddington House, edged with forest.

“That’s the bonfire pit,” he said, pointing. “Uncle Clive lights it when the Watch Ceremony begins. Then comes the dancing, some socialization time, and the ceremony ends at midnight with the Marching Watch around those boundary stones, to renew the protective wards.”

McGee’s eyes were wide. “Wow. I had no idea this sort of tradition existed.”

“I’m not surprised. I never learned anything about it at MIM either, and they don’t teach this at Hogwarts. And I doubt you’d find it in your technology books — MMRF.”

“Keep your voice down!” McGee hissed, hand still covering Tony’s mouth. “I can’t risk the Captain —” He squawked and jerked his hand away. “Did you just _lick_ my hand!?”

Tony made a face. “I’m regretting it. Your hand tastes gross.”

McGee wiped his hand on his robes and glared. “You brought it on yourself. And _don’t_ talk about the _you-know-what._ ”

“There’s nothing _wrong_ with being interested in it,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “They taught us that stuff at MIM, you know. Just because it’s not standard here doesn’t mean it’s taboo or anything.”

“It may as well be,” McGee muttered. “The Captain’s very big on ‘proper’ wizarding.”

“If you want more, maybe you could owl Gibbs. Or Abby. Or Kate.”

McGee just shook his head. Tony frowned in genuine concern, but let the matter drop. He slung a casual arm around McGee’s shoulders. “Well, it’s up to you. Hey, your dad’s the MaLEP Captain, right? How’s the hunt going?”

“For w-what?”

“Those innocent eyes aren’t gonna work, McPup! Come on, spill.”

McGee hesitated. “My father doesn’t discuss the details of his work with us.” Tony gave him a pointed look, and he sighed. “All I know is that they’ve lost the trail. They don’t know how he got out of Azkaban either.”

Tony hummed thoughtfully. “Uncle Clive’s on the Wizengamot, and apparently there’s been talk about putting out a hit on him in the No-Maj world.” He stopped in his tracks when he spotted a blond head coming down the path. “Oh, heck.”

“Associating with a Slytherin, Paddington?” Draco Malfoy drawled as he approached.

“First Hufflepuff, now Slytherin, and I know you don’t like Gryffindors. One might think you don’t want me to have any friends,” snarked Tony. 

Malfoy switched his predatory gaze to McGee, who shrunk back a step. “Is that what you are? _Friends_?” he sneered. “You’re the McGee boy, aren’t you? Father says John McGee has the potential to move up in the Ministry. Watch who you treat with — you wouldn’t want to hurt your father’s prospects, would you?”

Tony’s breath caught, and he glanced sideways at the younger boy. McGee seemed frozen for a moment. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and drew himself up stiffly. In as cold a tone as his prepubescent voice could muster, he said, “I’m acquainting myself with the heir of a noble wizarding family, Malfoy. Between the two of us, I’m not the one disgracing my father with my words.”

Tense silence. _He’s only saying it to keep Malfoy off his back,_ Tony told himself. 

Malfoy looked taken aback for a moment before pasting his signature smirk on his face and stalking off. Once the Malfoy heir was out of sight, McGee slumped, all the tension whooshing out of his body in a great sigh.

“Dude, I can’t believe you just went _Terminator_ on Draco Malfoy,” Tony joked, trying to lighten the mood. McGee gave him a quizzical look, and Tony affected an expression of mock horror. “You’ve never seen _Terminator_ ! Well, what was I expecting, you probably don’t have a TV, but at least you know what a TV _is_ —”

“Tony,” McGee interrupted softly. “You know I didn’t really mean what I said, right? We _are_ friends.”

Tony clamped down firmly on the self-doubt in his mind. Just because McGee wanted to please his father didn’t mean their connection wasn’t genuine. “Yeah, kid, I know. Hey, I should teach you the dance. Then you can join us crazies around the fire tonight!”

~.~+~.~

_Mallard Residence. Scotland._

Ducky’s parents were arguing. Again.

This would not have been an unusual occurrence up until a year ago. However, two things made Ducky feel rather uncomfortable. Number one: his mother, Victoria Mallard, a fiery Muggle with the unorthodoxy and strength of character to rival a witch, had flat-out refused to speak to his father, Joseph, ever since the divorce. The fact that Joseph started the argument was a concern that paled in comparison to reason number two: Ducky’s parents were arguing over _him_.

 _That_ was unusual. 

Ducky had always been cool, calming, a mediator with a spine of steel to temper his mother’s blazing personality. He settled arguments, he didn’t cause them — until this.

“I don’t care what magic mumbo-jumbo they can teach, if Donald intends to become a doctor, then I’m sending him to Eton and then on to proper university!” Victoria all but spat into the telephone, the same way she’d been doing on and off for the past week.

“Hogwarts has perfectly fine Healing classes, and he’s a _wizard,_ Victoria, he should have magical Healer training!” retorted Joseph from the receiver, the same way _he’d_ been doing on and off for the past week.

Ducky usually developed a headache by the time they got to this part. Today, though, he fingered a letter in his pocket thoughtfully, his head mercifully clear.

“You wizards, always thinking you’re so great,” mocked Victoria. “How will he get a job, Joseph? Eh? Tell me that!”

“He can work at St. Mungo’s, or stay on at Hogwarts —”

“Spend the rest of his life shut up in clandestine wizard wards? I think not! My son _will_ get a proper job —”

“He’s _my son too_ —”

“You didn’t seem to think so when you _left us_ for that _witch_ —”

“Is that what this is about, huh!? Magic, no magic —”

Ducky cleared his throat. When his parents continued to snipe at each other, he cleared his throat again. “Mother! Father!”

“What?” snapped Victoria and Joseph at the same time.

Ducky took a deep breath. “We’ve been debating this for days, and we haven’t gotten anywhere,” he said. “I wrote some of my friends, and they’ve suggested a possible compromise?”

The receiver crackled. “Go on, Donald,” Joseph prompted.

“I have a friend, Gibbs, whose father thinks that he should have a mundane education — same as you, Mother.”

“There, you see?” Victoria said smugly into the phone. 

“BUT,” Ducky said loudly, “Gibbs still attends Hogwarts. He takes mundane lessons in a summer school, and his father regularly owls him assignments during the school year.”

“You’re starting your N.E.W.T.s, Donald, and didn’t you say you wanted to shadow the school matron as well? Are you sure you could manage such a workload?” Joseph asked.

“I think I could try,” Ducky replied. _If only to stop your arguments._

There was a moment of silence, then Victoria clapped her hands. “Well, in that case, we’d best start looking into classes, Donald. No time to waste!” She thrust the telephone into Ducky’s hands and marched out of the room.

“Talk to you later, then, Dad,” Ducky said. “If you want, I mean.”

His father was silent for another few beats. “For what it’s worth, Donald, I’m proud of you.” There was a click, then the dial tone. Ducky sighed, replaced the phone in its cradle, picked up the television remote, and turned off the telly just as it began a news broadcast displaying a haggard face with scraggly black hair, sunken eyes, and WANTED written in large letters above his head...

~.~+~.~

_Scuito Residence, England._

When the light above the front door began flashing, Abby leapt up from her seat. “They’re here!” she yelled to Luca, already flinging open the door. “Luna!”

“Hi, Abby!” Luna chirped as Abby wrapped her in a hug. When they finally broke apart, Abby’s parents and younger brother had come to the door. Abby smiled at Luna’s father, a man with wild pale blond hair and silver eyes like his daughter, and invited them in.

“This is my father, Xenophilius Lovegood,” Luna said.

Abby stuck out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Lovegood!”

Xenophilius chuckled. “And you too, Abby. Luna tells me a lot about you.” He nodded to Abby’s parents. “Thank you for having us over.”

“It’s our pleasure,” replied Gloria Scuito loudly.

 _Too loud, Mom,_ signed Luca, and she lowered her volume a little. “I’m Gloria, this is my husband Sylvester, and our son Luca.”

“Come in, we’ve just baked cookies,” Abby said, taking Luna’s hand. 

Luna allowed Abby to lead her along as she gazed around at the Scuito home. “I’ve never been in a Muggle home before. What are those?”

“Electric lights. Here, this way.” 

They entered the kitchen. “And these?”

“Toaster, refrigerator and microwave. No Heating or Freezing Charms here.”

“And those?”

“Computer and television.” Abby signed as she asked, “Mum, Dad, I’m going to show Luna the backyard, but can we watch a movie tonight?”

 _Of course_ , her father signed.

“Certainly, and in the meantime we can chat in here, Mr. Lovegood,” added her mother.

“Please, call me Xeno,” Xenophilius chuckled, taking a seat at the table. 

Luna wandered closer to the computer, poking experimentally at the keyboard and jumping back when the monitor lit up. Abby grinned. “Here, watch,” she said, bringing up some graphics. Luna seemed baffled by how the images appeared on the screen. 

“You’re sure there’s no magic in this box?” she said, tapping the monitor. “Or perhaps an imp or other creature?”

“One hundred percent sure,” Abby said, logging off. “Here, let me show you something else.” She picked up the television remote and turned on the telly, and even Xenophilius looked over curiously.

“I thought Muggles didn’t have wands,” he remarked jovially to the Scuito parents, eyes still fixed on the glowing screen. Luca noticed and signed Xenophilius’s words to Sylvester, who sat behind him, and Xenophilius tilted his head at Luca. “Are you all right, Luca? Is it the Wrackspurts?”

“W-W-Wrackspurts?” Luca stuttered.

“Invisible creatures,” Luna explained distractedly. “They float in your head and make your brain go fuzzy.” 

Gloria looked alarmed at that, and Abby jumped in, signing as she spoke. “No, no, Luca’s fine. That’s British Sign Language.” Luna blinked owlishly at her hands, and Abby suddenly realized — “Oh, I must have forgotten to tell you, which is weird because I usually don’t forget, but — my parents are deaf. So when we talk together, we should all try to face each other.”

“That makes sense,” Luna said, experimentally mimicking Abby’s hands and signing _kitchen-bird-school bus_ by accident, making Luca giggle. Her attention caught on the television broadcast, and she peered more closely at it. “Daddy? Isn’t that the man from the _Daily Prophet_?”

“The magical newspaper?” Abby said as the adults came over.

“Hardly a newspaper,” Xenophilius scoffed. “They don’t report anything interesting, and half of what they _do_ report is exagger —” He broke off at the sight of the screen. “Merlin’s beard. Why is Sirius Black on the — the— what’s it called —”

“Telly,” Luca piped.

“Who’s Sirius Black?” Abby asked.

Xenophilius exchanged a nervous look with Luna. “A murderer, so they say.”

Gloria drew in a sharp breath. “Is he a wizard?”

Xenophilius nodded gravely. “He escaped from Azkaban weeks ago.”

“That’s the wizard prison,” Abby explained. Her eyes flicked to the telly again, and she stood up. “Luna, I’m going to write to Kate and Gibbs. They’re Muggleborn, and we need to warn them!”

~.~+~.~

_August 1993. Diagon Alley._

Jethro came out of Eeylops Owl Emporium with a bag of Quality Owl Treats (Steak Flavor) for Fornell. Considering the gray owl had been flying all over the United Kingdom in Jethro’s effort (well, Abby’s effort, really) to coordinate a meeting in Diagon Alley between his friends, he figured he owed it to the grumpy bird.

His father looked up as he approached. “Got everything you need?” Jackson asked. 

“Just books left,” Jethro replied. The day was golden and sunny, he was going to meet with his friends, and under these circumstances it was hard to stay cold with his father.

Especially when a copy of _The_ _Monster Book of Monsters_ snapped shut on the manager’s hand at Flourish and Blotts, and, without batting an eye, Jackson smacked the book and then casually held it closed with one hand while they paid. 

“I handled some feisty dogs back in the day,” he explained to the grateful manager, who gave them a thick rope to wrap around the book.

Jethro parted from his father outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor — Jackson would wait for him in the Leaky Cauldron — and, lugging the bag of school supplies, headed in. His gaze met that of a boy at the counter to whom Florean was handing an enormous ice cream sundae.

“Gibbs!” Harry Potter exclaimed. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Meeting some friends,” Jethro said. To Florean, “Two scoops of coffee, please.”

Once Florean handed him his ice cream, Harry said, “I’m sitting outside. You can join me while you wait, if you want.” Jethro inclined his head, and the two boys went out to enjoy the morning sunshine.

After several quiet moments of licking, Jethro remarked, “Ice cream before noon?”

“I could ask the same of you,” Harry said. “I’ve been here for a week already. Florean’s happy to have an early customer.” 

There was a muffled growl from Jethro’s bookbag, and Harry grinned. “Got your Care of Magical Creatures book?”

“My dad muzzled it like a dog,” Jethro replied.

“Ooh, that sounds cooler than what Crispy did,” interrupted a new voice. Tony sauntered up with his own wriggling bag and a megawatt grin on his face. “Heya, Harry. Heard you blew up your aunt.”

“ _Blew up_?” Jethro repeated incredulously.

“Like a balloon!” Tony crowed. “Mind watching my bag while I get ice cream, Gibbs?” A grunt. “Thanks!”

Once Tony headed into the parlor, Jethro turned to Harry. “You inflated your aunt?”

Harry reddened. “It was an accident.” He suddenly seemed to realize that the rest of the group would be arriving soon and excused himself, citing a need to visit Madam Malkin’s. Jethro gave him a look that clearly said _I know what you’re doing._ “You’re welcome here, y’know.”

“Maybe later,” Harry said. Jethro raised a hand in farewell, then settled back to wait for the others. They trickled in as the clock ticked toward noon.

Kate came next, returning Tony’s playful jab with one of her own before heading in for ice cream.

Abby and Luna arrived together, Abby chattering non-stop as she gave them all quick hugs and Luna gifting them each a delicate paper butterfly before they too entered the parlor.

Next was McGee, who appeared looking harried, probably from dealing with what appeared to be his sister having an outburst with their mother some distance away. Jethro walked him to the counter silently, and when Florean turned away to prepare the order, he placed a hand on McGee’s shoulder. McGee released a shuddering sigh, then gave a small smile. “Thanks, Boss.”

When they returned outside, Ducky had shown up, slightly out of breath. “Apologies, my plane was delayed.”

“What’s a plane?” Luna asked. Jethro hid his amusement when everyone jumped in at the same time to explain, even pureblood-raised McGee.

The atmosphere relaxed, everyone alternating between licking their ice cream and talking about their summers. Kate and Tony began a full-out poking war, Abby playfully egging them on; Ducky and Luna were soon deep in a discussion about technology with a furtive McGee pitching in, hesitantly at first, then more confidently; and Jethro fed a steak-flavored Owl Treat to a sorry-looking shaggy black stray and then leaned back, content to listen and relish the feeling of _together_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! I've kept you waiting long enough. Enjoy this whopper of a chapter to kick off Prisoner of Azkaban! Leave a kudos and a comment if you like it, and thanks for reading!
> 
> Notes:  
> \- Disclaimer, I know next to nothing about deaf culture. Anyone who knows more, do speak up! I'd love to learn and I'd be happy to edit anything that's grossly inaccurate.  
> \- Alban Heruin, Light of the Shore, the Marching Watch, and everything else Tony says about Midsummer came from these sources:  
> https://www.paganlibrary.com/reference/midsummer_celebration.php  
> http://www.sacredfire.net/festivals.html  
> https://www.patheos.com/blogs/fromacommonwell/2020/06/irish-celtic-and-indo-european-midsummer-lore/  
> (yes I definitely went down a rabbit hole for this)  
> \- Wyrmwood Vale is non-canonical, but meant to be essentially an Irish Hogsmeade. Also, anyone else think it's unreasonable for there to be only ONE all-magical town in all of Britain!?  
> 


	18. The Healer on the Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Chocolate is MEDICINE!?"

When the train shuddered to a stop and the compartment’s temperature plummeted enough to condense their breath into pale clouds, Ducky was the first to realize what was happening. His rambling story trailed off, and Abby snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Ducky?”

Then the lights went out.

Tony yelped when Kate — or McGee, or both — jumped and bumped into him. Abby uttered a sort of squawk, and Luna murmured, “Oh dear.”

“Nobody move!” Gibbs barked. There was some rustling, then several voices said together, “ _ Lumos. _ ”

In the light of everyone’s glowing wand-tips, Ducky stood and slid open the compartment door, peering into the corridor. Confused murmurs of conversation and the sound of doors opening drifted toward them.

“What’s happening, Duck?” Gibbs asked.

Ducky closed the door and turned around. “Nothing… for now.”

McGee suddenly sat up stock-straight with fear. “Ducky — is it — are there — ?”

“Not that I saw, Timothy,” Ducky hurried to say.

“Are there  _ what _ ?” Kate demanded. “McGee!”

The boy gulped. Ducky saw understanding dawn on Luna’s face, and she shuddered. “Not dementors!”

Ducky gestured at the windows, whose panes had frosted over. “The evidence points toward that conclusion.”

“How are you so  _ calm _ about this, Ducky!?” McGee squeaked. Gibbs placed a steady hand on his shoulder and gave Ducky an expectant look.

In all honesty, Ducky was quaking with fear on the inside, but in true Ravenclaw fashion, he drew strength from his knowledge. “Dementors are creatures that feed on happiness and comfort. They normally guard the wizard prison, Azkaban, but I happen to have received word that this year, due to the Sirius Black threat, they will be guarding Hogwarts.” He frowned. “I was not told they would be on the train.”

“Ghastly beings,” Luna whispered. “Daddy told me they don’t deserve to be called creatures.”

There was a moment of silence, made almost ghostly by the blue-white lights of the  _ Lumos _ charm and the frostiness of their exhalations.

“That’s messed up, dudes,” Tony finally said.

McGee took a deep, shuddering breath. “That’s not the worst of it. My father said that if they see Black, the dementors are allowed to — to p-p-perform —” He made a choking sound, and Gibbs gave his shoulder a gentle shake. “ _ What _ , McGee?”

“The Dementor’s Kiss,” Ducky guessed. McGee paled and nodded, and Ducky explained, in as controlled a voice as he could, “The dementor’s worst weapon: it sucks the victim’s soul out through the mouth, leaving only an empty shell of a body behind. A fate worse than death.”

Abby gave another little scream, eyes wide. “Really?” She looked around frantically. “That’s not going to happen to us, right? We’re safe? We’ll be fine, right?”

“You’d probably have to do something really bad to get the Kiss,” Tony said. “Don’t worry—”

Suddenly, it was as if a fog came down on the compartment, but there was no fog, only an all-encompassing feeling of suffocation, of disorientation, of soul-crushing darkness. Ducky felt weariness seep through his limbs and a terrible feeling of despair grip his chest, and he struggled to raise his wand-light toward the window in the compartment door. The cloaked shape of the dementor drew back and  _ hissed _ , the sound slithering through the air and sending chills down Ducky’s spine. A beat passed. Another. 

Then to Ducky’s enormous relief, the dementor moved away. The paralyzing fear loosened its grip, and everyone in the compartment breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief.

“That was the worst thing I’ve ever felt,” Kate said shakily. “Like — like —”

“Like I’d never be happy again,” Abby whispered. She gripped Luna’s and Kate’s hands, and Kate unconsciously reached for Tony, who sat next to her; Tony let her palm rest on his and leaned slightly into Gibbs’ shoulder, while Gibbs rubbed a slow circle on McGee’s back. McGee didn’t reach out, but Ducky lay a hand on his knee, and when Ducky met Gibbs’ eyes even the stoic fourteen-year-old looked shaken. Together they waited in tense silence for what felt like an eternity before the lights flared back to life, and, with a jolt, the Hogwarts Express restarted its journey.

Ducky stood, and the circle broke. “I’m going to get some medicine,” he announced. His friends blinked blearily back at him, and Gibbs said, “Come back soon.” Ducky nodded and opened the compartment door.

He figured the snack trolley would be at the head of the train and headed in that direction, sidling past confused students all chattering about the dementors. When he arrived at the conductor’s booth, he was surprised to see another person already soliciting a large slab of chocolate from the trolley witch. The man wore shabby robes and had gray streaks in his hair, but Ducky thought that he was likely only in his thirties despite the exhausted lines of his face. The man turned with chocolate in his hands. “Oh. Here for chocolate too?”

Ducky nodded. “Madam Pomfrey wrote in her letter that it’s the best remedy for a dementor encounter.”

The man’s gaze sharpened. “You’d be Donald Mallard, then?” At Ducky’s surprised look, he chuckled. “Professor Remus Lupin, Defense Against the Dark Arts. We’ve all gotten your specialized N.E.W.T. schedule, Mr. Mallard. It seems Madam Pomfrey chose well.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ducky said, dipping his head modestly. Professor Lupin nodded, then squeezed past him into the hall. 

The trolley witch smiled kindly at him, holding out several boxes of Chocolate Frogs. “Healer in the making, are you, dear?”

“So I hope,” Ducky replied. “Thanks. How much do I owe you?”

She waved him off. “No charge for medicine, dear.” Ducky thanked her and headed back down the corridor, cheered by the thought of Tony’s inevitable reaction — 

“Chocolate is  _ MEDICINE!? _ McGeek, I take back everything I ever said about technology having advantages over magic. Magic is awesome.”

~.~+~.~

_ Hogsmeade Station. _

“Orion!” Tony exclaimed happily, bouncing up to an apparently-horseless stagecoach and patting empty space. “Hey there, didja miss me? How’s Bella?”

“Tony, what are you doing?” Kate huffed. 

Luna, though, stepped forward with wonder in her eyes, reaching out for what Ducky assumed to be the thestral harnessed to the carriage. Abby’s eyes lit up and she followed Luna, waving her hands blindly in front of her. “Is there a thestral there? Can I pet him?”

Kate looked confused until McGee murmured an explanation in her ear, then she too moved forward curiously. Chuckling, Tony guided their hands along Orion’s invisible flank before shooing the four younger students into the carriage and shutting the door. As the coach trundled off, Ducky, Tony, and Gibbs wandered around in search of a second, Tony occasionally crooning to the thestrals by name. 

“Hello there, beautiful Rhiannon!” Tony greeted another patch of empty space. “Good, this one’s empty.” 

“Oh, sorry,” said another voice, and Ducky turned to see Potter, Weasley, and Granger, clearly about to climb in. “We’ll find another,” Granger said.

“Nonsense, there’s just enough room for six in here,” Ducky replied. “Come on.”

As the coach made its bumpy, swaying journey to the castle, Tony chattered inanely to Gibbs (who only hummed, grunted, and answered monosyllabically in his typical fashion) and Granger and Weasley (who both looked somewhat bemused) Ducky noticed the two Gryffindors kept glancing at Potter, who was quiet and withdrawn. When they passed the winged boar statues flanking the iron gates to the school, a wave of cold washed over the cabin, and Ducky glanced out to see two dementors floating nearby. From the corner of his eye he saw Potter take a shuddering breath and close his eyes, but before he could inquire about his well-being, a small owl fluttered into the cabin onto Ducky’s lap, giving a muffled hoot around the letter in its beak.

“Someone writing to you already, Ducky?” Tony asked.

Ducky glanced over the short note and tucked it away as the carriage slowed to a stop. “In a way,” he said. After they all stepped down from the coach, he turned to Potter. “I just received a message from Professor McGonagall. I’m to take you and Granger to her office.”

“ _ You _ ?” Weasley said incredulously. “Why you? And why not me?

“McGonagall didn’t ask for you, Weasley. Sorry.”

“This related to your apprenticeship, Duck?” Gibbs asked.

“I believe so,” Ducky replied. “I’ll see you both later.”

“You got it! Let’s go, Ron!” Tony grabbed Weasley’s wrist in one hand and Gibbs’ in the other and half-dragged them toward the castle, Weasley spluttering and Gibbs with a look on his face that promised a head-slap in the near future.

“Shall we?” Ducky said, leading the way toward the stone steps. But before they could get very far, a gleeful voice drawled, “You  _ fainted,  _ Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually  _ fainted? _ ”

Draco Malfoy, face maliciously delighted and eyes smug, slithered up beside them.

“Leave us alone, Malfoy!” Granger snapped.

“Ooh, where’s your boyfriend, Granger?” Malfoy sneered. “Did he faint as well? Did he have to be carried into the castle?”

Ducky cleared his throat, drawing Malfoy’s pale gaze to him. “I believe we’ve had a similar conversation before, but in case the years have muddled your memory…” He fingered his wand pointedly. “ _ Do not mess with my friends _ . Are we clear?”

Malfoy’s sneer faltered. He hesitated, glancing at his goons, and when Ducky stepped closer, he spat, “This isn’t over, Mallard,” before turning and stalking up the steps.

“He hasn’t changed at all,” Ducky sighed. He led the way up the stairs, then turned off the main hall into a side corridor and up another flight of stairs, the sounds of the student body diminishing behind them.

Granger finally broke the silence. “What’s the apprenticeship Gibbs mentioned?”

Ducky smiled. “I want to be a Healer, so I’ve worked with the professors to adjust my N.E.W.T. schedule to allow me to apprentice with Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing.”

“Oh — that’s fantastic!” 

“Do you know why McGonagall wants to see us, then?” Potter asked uncomfortably.

Ducky considered him for a moment. “You know, for all his posturing, Malfoy is not particularly known for lying. Did you have a reaction to the dementors, Potter?”

Potter swallowed, face reddening slightly in embarrassment. Ducky  _ tsk _ -ed. “Well, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Did you have some chocolate afterward?”

“Professor Lupin gave us all some,” Granger put in.

Ducky nodded. “And how do you feel now?”

“Fine,” Potter mumbled. “A little cold, that’s all.”

They stopped outside McGonagall’s office door. Ducky held out his hand, then paused. “May I take your pulse? I doubt there’s anything out of the ordinary, but just to be sure.”

“Yeah, all right,” Potter said, allowing Ducky to feel his forehead and gently press his fingers against his neck. Feeling a steady beat, Ducky nodded again and turned to rap on the door. It opened with a creak, revealing Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey, who ushered them in.

“Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train, Potter,” Professor McGonagall said abruptly.

Potter reddened, and Ducky interrupted, “Professor, if I may.”

Professor McGonagall exchanged a glance with Madam Pomfrey, who nodded. “Consider it your first assignment, Mr. Mallard.”

Ducky cleared his throat and stood straighter. “Potter had a bad reaction to a dementor, but the effects were temporary. He walked up here on his own without any problem; temperature is a bit below normal, but nothing concerning, and his pulse is fine. Professor Lupin gave him chocolate on the train.”

“Did he now? So we’ve finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who knows his remedies?” Madam Pomfrey pressed her hand to Potter’s forehead and took his pulse, then nodded approvingly. “Well done, Mr. Mallard. Five points to Ravenclaw.”

“Does he need anything else? Bed rest?” asked Professor McGonagall.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Potter quickly put in.

“Very well, if you’re certain. Mr. Potter, Mr. Mallard, kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger about her course schedule, then we can go down to the feast together.”

The door closed, and Madam Pomfrey said, “A good start to the year, Mr. Mallard.”

“Thank you, Matron,” Ducky said respectfully. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon?”

“Don’t be late.” Madam Pomfrey bustled off.

Potter shoved his hands in his pockets. “Hey, thanks for the help. With Malfoy, and this.”

“Don’t mention it.” Ducky smiled. “I’m a Healer. It’s what I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took waaaaay too long, and I apologize. Mainly because I was distracted for the past two weeks or so by The Umbrella Academy, which I totally fell in love with, and I haven't worked on this -_- but I promise there will be more to come! Happy reading!


	19. The Apprentice in the Hospital Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How do they do anything? By discovering the fundamentals of the universe, of course. From there all science stems."

James “Jimmy” Palmer enjoyed sleeping in, and the often-late start times of Hogwarts classes usually allowed him to indulge his habit. But today he groaned awake several hours earlier than was his custom, rolling out of bed and pulling on his robes, only half-awake. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and stifling a yawn, he trudged out into the common room and plopped down into a squashy armchair to wait. His eyes were just starting to slide closed when he heard footsteps, and he looked up to see Leroy Jethro Gibbs giving him a curious look. “Up early, Palmer?”

Jimmy shot to his feet. “I-I-I’m waiting — I m-mean — yes, yes I am,” he stuttered.

“Waiting?” Gibbs repeated.

“For you,” said Jimmy, though it came out as more of a question. Gibbs stared at him, and the silence stretched until, belatedly, Jimmy realized he was expecting an explanation. “I — er —”  _ Merlin, Gibbs was intimidating! _ “I wanted to ask a favor?”

Gibbs shifted his weight but didn’t let up on the expectant stare. Jimmy swallowed. “I know — well, I heard — you know Donald Mallard?”

“... Uh-huh.”

“Well, I was wondering if — if you would introduce me? I-I-I want to be a Healer, and he’s the best Healing student in the school, what with his apprenticeship and all, and —”

“All right.”

“— and I know we don’t really know each other but I would appreciate it a lot since I heard —”

“I said ‘all right,’ Palmer.”

Jimmy stopped rambling. “O-Oh, really, just like that?” Gibbs gave him a deadpan look, and Jimmy hastily added, “I mean, thanks. Thanks, Gibbs.”

Gibbs nodded. “After breakfast. Meet me in the entrance hall,” he said, before striding out of the common room. By the time Jimmy scrambled through the tunnel after him, he was gone.  _ Completely  _ gone, in fact — Jimmy didn’t see Gibbs anywhere in the corridor. Huh.

~.~+~.~

“You’re late, Jethro! You’re  _ never _ late, you sure you’re feeling —” The boy turned around and broke off. “Oh. Hi… random kid I don’t know.”

Jimmy waved awkwardly. “Hello.”

“Palmer — Tony Paddington, fourth-year Gryffindor,” Gibbs said. “Tony — Jimmy Palmer, third-year Hufflepuff. He’s looking for Ducky.”

_ Ducky? _ Jimmy thought incredulously. 

“He’s up in the tower already, I think,” Paddington replied. “C’mon.”

They wound their way through the halls of Hogwarts, which thronged with students all hurrying to their first classes. Jimmy caught sight of several fellow third-years looking confused at their course schedules, and he thanked his lucky stars that his own elective class, Ancient Runes, wouldn’t meet until that afternoon. As they climbed to higher floors, the crowds thinned until, striding down a corridor on the sixth floor, Paddington suddenly called, “Yo, what’re you guys doing up here?”

“Tony? Gibbs?” spluttered a vaguely familiar voice. Jimmy peered around Gibbs’ broad shoulders and blinked stupidly at Potter, Weasley, and Granger.

“‘Lo,” Gibbs greeted shortly.

“You lost?” asked Tony.

The so-called “Golden Trio” exchanged sheepish glances. “Yes, we’re looking for the Divination Tower,” admitted Granger.

“ _ You _ signed up for Divination?” Paddington snickered, glancing at Gibbs. “You, Hermione Granger, the super-bookworm,  _ you _ signed up for Divination?”

She frowned. “Yes. What’s so funny?”

“Oi, stop laughing and tell us!” Weasley snapped at Paddington, who was positively chortling by now, and even Gibbs chuckled quietly.

“You’ll see,” Paddington gasped finally. “You’ll see.”

Gibbs hummed. “We’ll take you there. Heading in that direction ourselves.”

_ We are? _ Jimmy thought, bemused.

The six students trooped through the halls, and occasionally Paddington would glance over at Granger, then at Gibbs, and snort. Jimmy was certain Weasley would either explode or attack, based on the redness of his face, when Gibbs suddenly said, “We’re here.”

“And looks like you’re late,” Paddington added, pointing at the ladder that led up to an open trapdoor through which Jimmy could smell heavy perfume. “Better hurry.”

“Thanks,” said Potter, and the Golden Trio scrambled up into the Divination classroom. The trapdoor closed with a  _ thunk _ .

Paddington caught Jimmy’s eye and smirked. “You didn’t pick Divination, huh? Good choice. From what we’ve seen, Trelawney’s either a drunk, or a loon, or both.”

“Seen? What do you mean, seen?”

“We hang out here a lot — me, Gibbs, and Ducky, that is,” Paddington said, following Gibbs toward the wall of the landing. Jimmy was about to ask where “here” was — surely not the landing underneath the classroom? — when Gibbs pushed the wall, revealing a narrow stone staircase spiraling upward. Paddington bounded up the steps, and Jimmy, still shocked, followed more sedately.

Donald Mallard looked up when they entered. “Oh, hello. Brought a friend, have you?”

“Jimmy Palmer, third-year Hufflepuff,” said Gibbs.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mallard,” Jimmy squeaked.

Mallard waved airily. “Please, call me Ducky.” 

“Wanted to speak with you, Duck,” Gibbs continued.

“About what?”

Gibbs nodded at him, and Jimmy nervously folded his sweaty hands behind his back. “W-Well, I want to be a Healer, and I heard about you…”

“Ah. Say no more,” said Ducky, closing his book and sliding it into his bag. “This turret’s a bit cramped for four. Why don’t we take a walk, you and I, and I’ll answer your questions?”

“R-Really?” That was more than Jimmy had hoped for.

Ducky grinned. “For a fellow student interested in the Healing Arts? Of course!”

~.~+~.~

“Oh, I knew I should have gone with Arithmancy,” Jimmy muttered to Hannah Abbott as he helped her into the hippogriff paddock. “Or Muggle Studies — at least Ernie would be there.”

“Buck up, Jim,” Justin Finch-Fletchley said. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Hagrid wouldn’t put us in danger, right?”

“Jimmy has a point,” said Hannah, eyeing the hippogriffs’ talons and cruel beaks.

The three of them gathered in front of a handsome hippogriff with dappled feathers and the hindquarters of a blue roan stallion. The nameplate on his collar read  _ Fogfeathers.  _ Justin puffed out his chest. “Nothing for it. I’ll go first.”

To Jimmy’s relief, Fogfeathers was as amiable as a hippogriff could be, and before long all three Hufflepuffs were cautiously stroking his flank. It looked as if the class would finish without incident, until there was an enraged squawk followed by a strangled yell and general commotion.

“And there it is,” Hannah sighed. “Merlin forbid we have a  _ normal _ first class.”

“When Potter and Malfoy are in the same class, it’s never normal,” Jimmy agreed as they shuffled over to peer at Malfoy’s “mauling.”

“What’s happening?” grumbled Justin, who was shorter than the rest of them.

“Malfoy got scratched by his hippogriff and he’s threatening to set his father on Hagrid,” reported Jimmy.

“In other words, the usual,” said Justin.

“It’s barely even bleeding,” Hannah tutted.

~.~+~.~

“It was barely bleeding,” said Ducky, when Jimmy visited him in the Hospital Wing after Care of Magical Creatures. “A wound minor enough that Madam Pomfrey had  _ me _ fix it, and today’s only my first day on the job!”

“You would have thought he was actually mauled, based on all his moaning,” replied Jimmy.

Madam Pomfrey bustled out from behind a partition with a tray full of medical supplies and stopped short upon seeing Jimmy. “Oh, hello dear. What’s the matter? Headache?”

“N-No, ma’am, just visiting,” said Jimmy.

“Mr. Palmer here is also interested in the Healing Arts,” said Ducky.

“Is that so?” Madam Pomfrey set the tray aside, peering closely at him. Jimmy resisted the urge to lean away. “Well, Mr. Palmer, you’re welcome to sit in when you have time.” She nodded briskly, picked up the tray, and continued on her way.

“You wouldn’t mind?” Jimmy asked Ducky.

“Quite the contrary,” Ducky replied, pulling a large textbook out from his bag. “I’d appreciate the company while I study.”

Jimmy craned his neck to read the titles. “Intermediate Physics? What’s that?”

“Ah… a branch of Muggle science,” Ducky said, a little sheepishly. “My mother insists. She wants me to attend university and study Muggle medicine.” He flipped through the textbook to a bookmarked page. “My father disagreed. He said I needed to stay in Hogwarts. This was the compromise.”

Jimmy tried to read the page over Ducky’s shoulder. He felt like he was eleven again, attempting to read his father’s Potions books: unable to understand much of anything beyond “mix this and stir that.” Ducky chuckled at his wide-eyed confusion and tugged a notebook out from his bookbag. “If you’re curious, you may borrow my earlier notes. They start at the beginning, so to speak. But be warned: you have to approach these subjects with the mindset of a Muggle. Things don’t generally move on their own, because there are no charms or enchantments. Nor do they drastically change shape without cause, because there is no Transfiguration.”

“Then how do they  _ do _ anything?”

Ducky’s eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “They discover the fundamentals of the universe, of course. From there all science stems.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year! In celebration, have another chapter! And a huge thank you to everyone who's read, left kudos, and/or commented on this story. Your support is hugely encouraging, and I'm so glad you're enjoying thus far. Let me know what you think!


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